


Talk Out Your Problems

by musiclove915



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adopted Jackson Whittemore, Allison Argent & Erica Reyes Friendship, Allison Argent & Lydia Martin Friendship, Alternate Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Attempted Murder, BAMF Allison Argent, BAMF Derek Hale, BAMF Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), BAMF Stiles, BAMF Vernon Boyd, Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone Needs Therapy, F/F, F/M, Gerard Argent Being an Asshole, Good Peter Hale, Happy Ending, Hurt Isaac, Isaac Lahey Feels, Jackson is Isaac's Protector, Lydia Martin & Erica Reyes Friendship, M/M, Multi, Murder, One-Sided Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore, Past Child Abuse, Secret Relationship, Seizures, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Therapist Peter Hale, Underage Smoking, Vernon Boyd & Isaac Lahey & Erica Reyes Friendship, blind dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclove915/pseuds/musiclove915
Summary: None of them wanted to be there, but each one has a story to share and secrets that they want to keep that way.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ethan/Danny Mahealani, Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore (One-Sided), Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Jordan Parrish/Sheriff Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Peter Hale/Original Female Character(s), Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so something different from me. I've had this idea for a while so here it is. Just a warning, even though this is an AU story, I used many elements from canon as the conflicts for each character. So there will be mentions of character deaths, abuse, and other dark themes. When a chapter has that I'll be sure to include and trigger warnings and how I've broken up the chapters, I'll be able to tell you when to skip if it would be too much for you. The full story is already finished, but if you have any suggestions don't be shy and tell me. I'll be updating every Wednesday. So without further ado, enjoy the story.

Something wasn’t right. The car had stopped, but it was still on. Were they home? Or did they stopped at a red light, or somewhere else? Or had they been stopped? Stiles could see the flashing lights. Had Heather been stopped? Had his dad figured out he’d snuck out to go to that party?

The sounds were distant, almost like a radio’s volume set low. That wasn’t right, the radio had been turned off, Heather said it would only distract her while she drove them home. Right? Or was that another time Stiles was thinking of? It was hard for him to remember; maybe it had been on and when he nodded off, Heather turned it off.

But nothing was right.

Before Stiles could put a finger on what was wrong, a bright light flashed in front of his eyes. He knew that he might’ve been bad about waking up, his father had told him multiple times in the past, but what was that? Was it the headlights from another car? He squinted trying to get the sleep from his eyes.

A voice could be heard. And then another, and another, more could be heard, and it was starting to make Stiles’ head pound. The voices, for the most part, were calm, but one Stiles could hear over the others, it was calling his name. That voice was frantic, almost desperate.

Stiles tried to say something, but it was like his mouth and brain weren’t on the same page. They were trying to do the same thing but in their own ways. He tried again, making a sound that was closer to a grunt than actual words. Stiles cleared his throat to say something, but that time nothing came out.

Slowly, he moved his head, trying to see who was talking. If he could figure out why he couldn’t talk, he’d be able to sweet-talk whatever deputy his dad had sent.

Heather was slumped forward. That wasn’t right. Did she pull over and sleep? Or had they been in an accident?

Before Stiles could fully comprehend, his door was opened.

“Hey Stiles, can you hear me?”

Stiles looked away from Heather and looked at who was talking to him. It was one of the local paramedics. Stiles didn’t know her name since his dad wasn’t her boss. But she knew Stiles, at least he hoped she did.

He nodded not trusting his voice yet.

She smiled at him and cut away the seat belt still connecting him to the car. As Stiles was gently pulled out of the car, he heard the frantic voice call him again.

“Sheriff,” the paramedic said trying to move them to the ambulance, “you can get his report when he’s at the hospital.”

John ignored her and rushed towards them. “Stiles, are you okay?”

Stiles was about to respond but couldn’t. He was about to nod when he was pulled into a hug. His dad hugged him mumbling that everything would be okay.

“Sheriff,” the paramedic sighed, “we need to look him over and make sure there isn’t any further injury.”

“He’s my son!”

“John,” she sighed again, “you know we have to do this. You can ride with us when to the hospital, but you know the protocol.”

“I can’t,” he looked back at the car, “I—”

“I’ll go,” a deputy interjected. Stiles recognized the voice but couldn’t place it.

“Thank you, Jordan.” The sheriff gripped his shoulder before leaving. “I need to talk to Heather’s parents.”

“Dad…” Stiles croaked out. Was that his voice? Had he always sounded like that? His dad didn’t hear, but he tried again anyway.

“Come on, Stiles,” Jordan said breaking Stiles from trying yet again to say something. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

He tried to sound professional, but the concern he felt laced the edge of his voice. If Stiles were coherent, he’d have called him out on it, but at the time Stiles was just lead away.

Before the ambulance doors closed, Stiles saw Heather’s parents. They were crying. After the doors were slammed shut, he heard her mother scream.

A chill went through Stiles.

***

“So, you had no idea that Heather was over the limit?” The Sheriff asked again.

Each beep from the hospital equipment distracted Stiles from what was being said to him. It reminded him of sitting next to his mother every day for the last year of her life. He remembered how eventually the beeping had slowed down, how they seemed to no longer detect anything anymore. Then the day came there was just a long droning noise—

“Stiles,” his dad grabbed his attention. “Did you?”

He shook his head. Of course, he didn’t. If Stiles knew, he wouldn’t have been in the car. He’d have also stopped Heather from driving in the first place.

“Stiles, “Jordan asked, “can you remember anything before the crash? Anything that would’ve made you realize that Heather was in no condition to drive?”

Had there been? Was there a way for Stiles to realize how drunk anyone at that party was? That was the first time he was at a party; being the sheriff’s kid was a huge downside. He was having a good time with his only friend, just watching his classmates drink, dance, and do stupid things he’d only seen in those cheesy teen movies. He wasn’t drinking, again being the sheriff’s kid was a big pain in the ass sometimes, but he wasn’t going to stop anyone else from enjoying themselves. Even Heather was letting loose, but had she let herself go too far?

He shook his head again.

John and Jordan shared a look before both gave a deep sigh. Jordan slumped against the wall crossing his arms, while the Sheriff fell into the chair next to Stiles’ hospital bed. He gave another deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Stiles looked at his father, really looked at him. He noticed there were a few more wrinkles around his father’s eyes and on his forehead. His hair was lighter than Stiles remembered, greyer than the brown blonde he used to have.

“Maybe we should come back?” Jordan asked his boss starting to get uncomfortable being the outsider in a family issue. “Give him time to remember anything?”

Another deep sigh left the Sheriff as he stood up again. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He took Stiles’ hand and squeezed it, trying to hold back from tightly hugging his son. He started towards the door when Stiles finally said anything.

“Dad? Can I visit Heather and see if she’s okay?”

The two uniformed men froze. They give each other another look before turning towards Stiles. He looked young; John could almost see the son he had before his wife died staring back at him. Jordan had to look away, remembering how that poor girl had looked. He’d seen his share of bodies before, being a deputy didn’t excuse him from the gore of death, but this one was going to stick with him for a while.

“No one…” Didn’t anyone tell his son what happened? Had he forgotten to inform his own son? “Stiles, Heather didn’t make it.” Stiles looked perplexed like he didn’t know what his father had just said. “I’m sorry, son.”

The look of understanding that crossed Stiles’ features was clear on his face. Tears quickly fell as he remembers seeing his friend, his only friend, slumped over. He’s quickly hugged by his father as he started to sob.

It wasn’t right. Nothing was right.


	2. Chapter 2

“So,” Jordan awkwardly started. Stiles side-eyed the deputy, waiting for him to continue. “Do you need someone to go with you?”

Stiles looked forward, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. They were sitting outside the hospital, waiting for Stiles’ therapy session. It had been three weeks since the accident, two since Heather’s funeral. Since then, he hadn’t had a good night's sleep, almost every night he’d wake up from nightmares. He could barely remember what they were about, but Stiles would wake up screaming and in a cold sweat every time.

Recently, his father saw a flier promoting group therapy for teens. ‘ _Teens Talking to Teens’_ was a way for teenagers who were going through loss to talk to others that were going through the same thing. Stiles hated the name for obvious reasons; it was idiotic and lacked any creativity. And it wasn’t something Stiles would’ve done, but he could remember his dad doing something similar after his mom died.

So that was what lead him to be sitting in a patrol car, sitting with his dad’s favorite deputy. Someone who was possibly more concerned about how Stiles was holding up than his own father.

“No,” he put on his ‘happy voice’, “I’m a big boy. I can go to therapy by myself.”

Jordan didn’t seem convinced by what Stiles said but nodded anyway. An unbearable silence fell over them. “Stiles, can I tell you something?” Stiles nodded slowly. “So, I wanted to say…That is…” Jordan took a deep breath. “I wanted to be the one—”

Stiles’ alarm rang loudly. He scrambled to get his phone out of his jean pocket and turn it off. “Sorry about that. What were you…?”

“You should head up,” Jordan said quickly. He turned towards Stiles, a relieved smile on his face. “You don’t want to be late.”

Stiles was relieved himself. He didn’t really want to hear what Jordan was about to tell him. He didn’t think he could handle it. Maybe one day, but not at the moment. So he took the exit and got out of the car. While walking away, Stiles wondered if he should give Jordan a smile, or a wave, or something, but he thought against it. He had bigger things to deal with, the first being walking into the hospital. A place he spent a year of his life watching over his mother. He shook his head and headed to the nurse’s station. It was feeling a little too familiar for Stiles, but he needed to get his mind focused.

“Can I he—Stiles?” The nurse was shocked.

“Melissa?”

She smiled and ran around the desk and hugged Stiles. “It’s been years. What are you doing here?” Melissa pulled away quickly, her expression serious. “Is your dad okay?”

It was Stiles’ turn to smile. Even after all the years, Melissa was still concerned about the Stilinski Clan. “No, he’s fine. I…” Stiles stopped. Did he really want to tell Melissa why he was there? She basically became a surrogate mom while his own mother was dying. But that had been years ago.

“Are you here for the teen group?” Was he so transparent? He slowly nodded. A kind smile appeared on her face. “It’s on the third floor. When you get off the elevator take a left and follow that hall all the way to the end.” Stiles nodded again. “It’s good to see you again, Stiles. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll try not to be.” He smiled and headed to the elevator.

“Oh, and tell Scott I said hi.”

Stiles turned around with a confused expression. Melissa just smiled, so he slowly nodded his head and continued on his way.

When Stiles got into the elevator, he paused before hitting a floor number. On instinct, he almost pressed 5. That was the floor his mother was before...

Stiles could remember, every day after school one of the Sheriff’s deputies, whosever turn it was to pick up and watch Stiles, would take him to the hospital. He’d race inside, say hi to all the nurses, go to the elevator and press the button for his mother’s floor. And after that, he’d spend a few hours with his mom, regaling her with tales from his day in school. Whenever a nurse or doctor came in, Stiles would include them in hearing his stories. As the year passed, Stiles would still visit, but sometimes his mom wouldn’t be awake for many hours. Or on occasion, she’d not even recognize her own son, yelling at him. Those days terrified Stiles. He’d cry for the rest of the night, and his dad would have to get off of work and try to comfort his son when all Stiles wanted was his mom. The mom that would sing silly songs with him, and tickle him, and kiss his forehead before bedtime, and hold him when he was scared.

A hand shot out and pressed 3, startling Stiles out of his memories. Lydia Martin was glaring at Stiles but then quickly went back to texting on her phone.

Stiles stared at Lydia as she furiously typed. He could feel his cheeks grow red. It was just his luck, the first time Lydia had acknowledged his presence, Stiles had been frozen trying to press a simple button.

“Hiya,” Stiles said because God knows he couldn’t go five seconds without embarrassing himself.

Lydia paused, looking up for a second, and then when right back to her phone.

On the few seconds that it took to get to the right floor, Stiles had made up his mind to ride the elevator back down, walk right back out, and go home. He didn’t need to be in the same room as a literal goddess as Lydia Martin.

The doors opened. Lydia walked out with all the grace that Stiles lacked. As the doors started to close Stiles was getting ready to press for the first floor but stopped when a stiletto blocked the doors.

“Are you coming, Stilinski?” Lydia said as if she couldn’t care less about the outcome.

Stiles nodded his head vigorously, stepping out into the hallway. They walked down the hall together, Stiles having to keep up with Lydia’s fast pace. He was trying to come up with something to say, at least something intelligent so he wouldn’t have to be an even bigger dork than before.

“Before you ask,” she said, startling him from his thoughts, “I’m only here to support Allison and Jackson.”

“You’re a nice friend. I mean if something were wrong with me, I’d like you to be there for me. Supporting me. I guess for Jackson you kind of have to, right? Him being your boyfriend and everything. But Allison is just your friend. You don’t have to do that, but you are. That’s really—”

“Stop talking, Stiles.”

His face grew hot again. “Right. Sorry.”

Once they got to the door after a, as Stiles would say painfully, silent walk, a sign greeted the pair. A single sheet of paper that said _‘Teens Talking to Teens’_ in a Comic Sans font with clip art balloons on the corners. It might have looked cheerful and inviting but since it was in black and white it gave the complete opposite effect.

“Wow,” Stiles really couldn’t contain himself. “I think they should’ve put a clown on the page too. Would’ve really brightened up the message.”

Lydia chuckled. “Good one, Stiles.”

He beamed, Lydia thought he was funny. But before he could think more about that, Stiles jumped out of the way, nearly being hit by the door. Without a backward glance, Lydia walked in and took an empty seat between the two people she was there to support. Jackson looked up from his phone when his girlfriend sat down, but quickly noticed Stiles still in the doorway. They glared at each other, which wasn’t anyway different than when they normally saw each other. Allison had to turn slightly to see who Jackson was glaring at, but when she did she smiled and waved. Stiles did the same. The person next to Allison turned as well. Theo. Stiles glanced around the room and realized he knew everyone in the room. Erica and Boyd were sitting next to each other, they acknowledged him but went right back to talking to the other. Next to Erica and was at the top point of the circle was Scott. They smiled at each other, and Stiles realized what Melissa had meant. Scott McCall, Melissa’s son.

There were two empty chairs in the circle, one next to Boyd and Theo and another next to Scott, and a person Stiles couldn’t see who it was. The seat next to Boyd would’ve been almost the opposite of Jackson, so there was only one realistic option. Walking to the chair next to Scott, Stiles was trying to figure out who the mystery person was. The closer he got, he recognized who it was. Derek Hale. For a split second, Stiles thought about sitting across from Jackson, but he was too close to just change course and sat down.

“Hey Stiles,” Scott said, with a grin on his face.

“Hi, Scott.”

Stiles didn’t want to do this. For that year, when he was visiting his mom, a boy would come by and they’d talk and play together. They became the best of friends, playing pretend and even getting in trouble playing hide-and-go-seek that one time. When his mom died, Melissa and Scott went to the funeral, but after that Stiles never saw the other boy again. He didn’t want to. Stiles just couldn’t be around Scott, the pain of his mother dying just made being friends with Scott was too much.

The silence dragged on. Scott’s smile was faltering. Stiles was about to say something but was interrupted by a beep from Scott’s watch.

Scott took a deep breath and stood up.

“Okay, I think everyone’s here. Welcome to ‘ _Teens Talking to Teens’_.”


	3. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out each chapter will be in a different person's POV. So first up is Scott.
> 
> Also, there is a trigger warning for some mention of child abuse.

“Okay,” Scott could feel his palms start to sweat. “Let’s go around the—”

The door slammed open, causing the group to jump. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” Isaac said closing the door as if he was walking into the library. “Sorry, Scott.” He blushed and moved to the last empty seat. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, we were about to introduce ourselves and why we’re here.” He realized he was still standing and sat back down. After taking a deep breath Scott continued. “My name is Scott McCall and I used to come to this group after my dad left.” He looked to his left.

“I’m Erica Reyes,” she sighed. “My dad passed a few months ago.”

“Boyd.” Erica cleared her throat. Boyd sighed. “Vernon Boyd. Just call me Boyd. Please.” He took a breath himself. “My sister died.”

“Hi, my name is Isaac Lahey and I’m here because my dad died.” A few of the other’s eyes narrowed since it didn’t sound like he was broken up about it.

“Theo. Raeken. My sister died.”

“Allison Argent. My mom died in an accident.”

“Lydia Martin. I’m here for support.”

“Lydia,” Scott sighed. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Why?”

He sighed again. “This is a place for people to talk to others who know what they’re going through. If you didn’t lose someone—”

“Scott, I think you’re going to need me.” An air of finality followed that last comment.

Scott gulped.

There were three universal truths Scott knew; the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, everybody lives and dies, and no one challenges Lydia Martin.

“Let’s go on.” He said, avoiding Lydia’s gaze.

“I’m Jackson Whittemore. My parents are getting a divorce.”

“Derek Hale.”

A few seconds passed before Scott cleared his throat. “Can you tell us why you’re here?”

Derek glared at Scott. “Everyone already knows why I’m here.”

Scott froze. Why did he think he could do this? He wanted to leave, call Peter, and tell him he couldn’t do it, and go back home and play video games until he graduated. “Okay,” he said instead of leaving, “and finally?”

“Stiles Stilinski. And before anyone asks it’s a nickname. And I don’t think anyone here would be able to pronounce my real name, not that I ever give it.”

“And why you’re here?” Scott tentatively asked, not wanting another reaction like Derek.

“Oh, right, sorry. My…um…my best friend died.”

Scott breathed a sigh of relief, at least that was done. “So, now that that’s out of the way, this group is…” Lydia’s hand shot up. “Yes?”

“Isn’t this group lead by Peter Hale?”

Derek stiffened.

“Yes, Lydia, he usually does but I was asked…”

“Why?”

Scott paused. “What?”

“Why are _you_ in charge?”

“I’m not in charge. I’m just here…”

“To babysit? I think everyone here would be better off with a trained professional.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve been to a lot of these meetings before…”

“Is that really all it…”

“Lydia,” Scott interrupted. “This is a place for teens to talk through things that deeply affect them. If you don’t have anything that can help someone, you are more than welcome to leave.”

The room was silent. Most of the group waited to see what would happen next. Lydia’s shocked expression slowly morphed into a smile of appreciation. She gestured for Scott to continue.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Scott said, looking away from Lydia. “This group just helped me a lot.”

“How?” Allison asked.

“What?”

She chuckled. “How did the group help you?”

“I don’t think it matters.”

“No,” Erica said quickly. “I think that would help us understand. I mean, I for one didn’t want to come. I was basically forced here. And I’m thinking a lot of us were.”

Most of the group nodded their heads.

Was this how Scott had been his first meeting? Did he feel forced to be there?

No, he didn’t. He felt like he was heard for the first time in a while. Scott was able to open up about his parent's divorce, how his mother was so much happier with his father gone. He talked about how alone he felt because of his mom working so much and him not having any friends. He did _have_ friends; it was that none of them wanted to hang out. At first, it was a way for him to meet new people and try to be their friends.

But it never happened. They didn’t want friends; they wanted a quick fix. But they usually didn’t come back after one session because they didn’t understand why they still hurt, or why they ‘just couldn’t move on’. Peter would tell them it wasn’t that easy, but most didn’t listen. They didn’t want to.

And like a puppy, Scott went back every week and tried to make friends yet again.

“Scott?” Stiles was waving his hand, trying to get his attention.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.” Maybe telling his story might make the others more comfortable telling theirs. It was what Peter might have done. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I started coming here.”

***

“Welcome everyone. My name is Peter Hale and I’m the moderator for the group.” He said with a smile on his face trying to make eye contact with each member of the group. Scott could tell he was the only one that was actually looking at Peter, the others angrily looking at something on the wall or their shoes. “I can see a lot of new faces. How about we go around the room and introduce ourselves?” Most of them said anything reluctantly, and as the session grew longer, they continued to talk as if the information was being yanked from them. As if saying how they truly felt was going to reveal some dark dirty secret. Throughout, Peter would try to get everyone to open up, following a train of thought but each time they’d stop, and the exercise was rendered pointless. Scott could see that it would frustrate Peter, but ever the professional, he’d move on and have someone else talk for a while.

And it would be like that week after week, the only one that would come back was Scott. He’d talk about his father and the anger he felt about him leaving him and his mother, and how his mom had to pick up extra shifts to pay the bills.

Each time he would speak, Peter would always seem relieved that someone was actually talking.

“Okay everyone, our time is up,” Peter said at the end of a meeting. “If you’d like to come back, we meet here every Saturday. You are under no obligation to but if you think this is helping, you are more than welcome to.” But the others didn’t listen, most were already out the door. Peter sighed knowing that they’d probably never see any of them again.

Not really knowing what to do, Scott started to quietly stack the chairs. The movement startled Peter.

“You don’t have to do that, Scott.”

He shrugged. “My mom doesn’t get off work for another hour. So what else am I going to do?”

“I don’t know. When I was your age… Oh, god, am I really that old?” Scott chuckled. “Anyway, when I was your age I’d be hanging out with my friends. Going to the mall or going to each other’s houses. It’s Saturday, get creative.” He laughed but stopped when he noticed Scott’s face.

“Well, that was then,” he said quietly.

It was silent after that comment. At first, Scott thought he said the wrong thing or that he wasn’t heard. Or even that Peter left, he was used to people leaving while he talked.

“You know,” Peter broke the silence, “I have a nephew about your age.”

“Derek,” he nodded.

“Do you hang out with him?”

Scott laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I hang out with the most popular guy at school.” He immediately froze thinking his sarcasm was going to get him in trouble. But instead, he heard Peter chuckle.

“You should speak like that more often, Scott. It fits your personality.”

He gave an uncomfortable smile.

A phone beeped. At first, Scott thought it was his, but the sound wasn’t right. He watched Peter roll his eyes and pull out his own phone from his pocket.

“Urgent,” he muttered. “If it was so urgent, you can call me.” He put his phone away and looked at Scott. “I’ll answer that later. How about I walk you down to meet your mom?”

“What about the chairs?” He asked looking at the chairs still out.

“Someone will put them away, don’t worry.” He held the door open, ushering Scott out of the room. When they reached the elevator, Peter tsked. “I hate this thing.” He watched Scott press the button. “It always takes so long. How about we take the stairs?”

He quickly shook his head. “No, I’ll wait for the elevator.”

“You sure?” Peter asked opening the door for the staircase. He shook his head again. At that moment, Peter’s phone rang. “I guess it is urgent. Okay, Scott, I’ll see you next Saturday.”

But Scott wasn’t paying any attention to what Peter said. He was focused solely on the stairs he could see. Seeing those stairs scared him.

It was something that he hid from everyone, even his mom, Scott was terrified of stairs. It started when he was 4. That was when his father started really drinking. One night his parents were arguing again, and he’d been watching it. One moment he was hugging his doorframe, and the next he was in the air and he could see the bottom of the stairs at an unpleasant height. He started to cry, and he even peed himself. Next, he was in his mother's arms, she was screaming but Scott didn’t know what she was saying because he was crying so much. The next time it happened was when he was 5, and then again at 7. When he was 12 it changed. Scott’s father held him by his shirt, forcing Scott to lean far back. He would hang on to his father’s hands hoping that it was like all the other times, just a threat. It continued this way until the last year. He stood in front of his mom to protect her from the violence that had increased since he was about 6. That time, his father grabbed him and pushed. Scott fell. He was on the bottom floor before he knew it. He could see his father shocked, and for the first time in years sober. He ran out of the house, not grabbing clothes, or money, just his keys. They hadn’t seen him since.

***

“Wait,” Stiles interrupted, “did you just say your father throw you down the stairs?”

Scott froze. Did he just admit that? That couldn’t be possible. That was the one thing he’d been able to hide all the weeks he was with the group. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his, and his mother's.

“No, I—”

“Scott, were you and your mom abused?” Allison asked.

Isaac seemed extremely distressed, pulling on his jacket sleeves so hard that the stitches looked like they were starting to fray. He brought his legs up to his chest and hid his face from the group. With how quiet the room was, they could hear him take large, ragged breaths in, and shaky breaths out. Erica jumped out of her seat and went to him, speaking soothing words and trying to comfort him.

“I um…” Scott licked his lips, not knowing if he should run out of the room.

“You never told Peter that did you?” Derek asked. Everyone in the room watched the two boys. “I remember he said you were hiding something, but he didn’t know what.”

Scott could feel his eyes prickle, like he was about to cry, something he hadn’t done since his father left. But before anything could come out, he felt a hand on his thigh. He looked at it and traveled up the connecting arm to see Stiles looking at him with pity in his eyes. Scott hated that look but at the moment he excepted it.

“Did this happen when we played together?” He asked gently. For a moment, Scott thought about lying, but at the last second nodded. Lydia raised her eyebrow. “Why didn’t you say anything? You know I could’ve told my dad.”

He licked his lips again. “It wouldn’t have done any good.” Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed. “My dad was a deputy too. That’s how our parents knew each other.”

“But my dad’s—”

“After your dad was elected sheriff, _my dad_ requested a transfer. He was told to stay in town because he’s _family_ ,” Scott sneered the word, “was here. And to get as much information on the new sheriff.”

“That fucker,” Stiles hissed.

“Wait,” Jackson interjected, “your father abused you for years, and no one knew about it? No one from the sheriff's department? I think that’s bullshit.”

“Do you really think it’s that shocking for something like abuse by law enforcement to be overlooked?” Lydia said.

“Where was he transferred to?” Boyd asked.

“He was…actually recruited by the FBI.”

“Now that’s surprising,” Lydia said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles yelled getting out of his seat. “This asshat abuses his wife and son for years and the fucker’s recruited by the FBI?” He fell back down. “And to think I wanted to be an agent.”

“Scott?” Isaac whispered. Erica squeezed his shoulder before going back to her chair. “Are you okay?”

They all looked at Scott for his answer.

“Yeah,” he answered honestly. “I really am.” He took a breath. “You know, I never talked about this in the group before. I think I figured none of them would care. But for some reason, I trust you guys enough to tell you.” Stiles reached over again and squeezed his shoulder. “So, who wants to go next?” He said with a bright smile.

The energy in the room changed, everyone looking at the others seeing who was brave enough to start.

“I’ll go,” Boyd said. He was leaning forwards, with his elbows resting on thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far.
> 
> Next chapter: Boyd


	4. Boyd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so for Boyd's sister's name, I've seen a few different names so I went with Alisha. And don't worry, you won't read anything triggering.

Every day was exactly the same no matter what. At 6 ‘o clock in the morning, Boyd would wake up and take a shower, knocking on his sister's door as he passed. He knew it wasn’t going to wake her but he always tried. After he was dressed, he knocked again then he’d go to the kitchen and start the coffee machine, the only way to wake up his parents. Ten minutes later they’d come down the stairs already dressed for the day where they’d greet him and grab a cup each. While they drank their coffee, Boyd would start breakfast, usually eggs and ham or oatmeal, and on special occasions, or when he really felt like it, waffles. While he was plating breakfast, he saw that his sister wasn’t up yet, so like every morning, he went to her room and dragged his nine-year-old sister out of bed. After eating, their parents would leave for one of their jobs, their mom had two jobs while their dad had three.

They didn’t have much, but that never bothered Boyd. He was someone who liked the simple life and didn’t really want anything too out there. His dreams were realistic but there was one thing he wished for, he wished he had more freedom like his friends and classmates. He just wished he could be a teen without the extra responsibility of helping pay bills and helping raise his baby sister, Alisha. The money he earned from work should’ve been going to him to spend on whatever he wanted and every night he had to be at home to watch his sister. But he knew his parents needed help. Every time he gave them his paycheck, Boyd could tell it killed them to need their son’s hard-earned money. And every time he had to refuse an invitation to a party or just hanging out with his friends outside of the house, they hated themselves a little more. They would always say that they would pay him back for everything he was doing for them, but each time Boyd told them they didn’t need to. But he made a deal with his parents that he’d be able to hang out with his friends and goof off one night a month, where he didn’t have to worry about anything, not even having to watch his sister.

On the morning of his carefree night, Boyd’s plans were thrown out the window.

“Before I leave,” their mother said as she was kissing her children, “Vernon, you’ll have to watch Alisha tonight.”

“Mom,” he whined. “I have to work tonight. And I had plans too.” He was conveniently leaving out the fact that while at work he was going to be hanging out with Erica and Isaac anyway. Having started dating Erica a few months before, Boyd hadn’t spent much time with his girlfriend.

“Then she’ll have to go with you. You can work and watch your sister. Vernon,” she sighed, “we all have to pull together for a little while, okay?”

Boyd sighed and nodded his head in defeat. So much for hanging out with his friends.

***

Working at the skating rink was supposed to be a fun job. It was supposed to be all about hanging out with friends, eating free food, and getting to goof off while being paid minimum wage. But it was more like working so often Boyd never got to see his friends except at school, having to pay for the crappy food that was sold there, and working harder than most while only being paid minimum wage.

“Vernon,” Mr. Richards said right as Boyd entered the breakroom, “you’re late.”

“Your watch doesn’t work, Mr. Richards,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m thirty minutes early.”

He looked at the watch, squinting as he tried to see if it was actually broken. He figured it was, but didn’t take it off. “And who is this young lady?” He asked noticing Alisha.

“This is my little sister.” He tried to push Alisha forward, but she stayed behind. “She’s going to hang around while I’m working.”

“Well, as long as she pays for everything, I don’t care. Just get out there, Amanda called in sick.”

“Again?” There went his plans to slack off too.

“You know her, any excuse not to work,” Mr. Richards said as he walked out of the room.

Boyd sighed and then looked at his sister. “Okay, Alisha, I have to work so you need to hang out where I can see you. Erica and Isaac are going to be here later so you can hang out with them.” _At least one of us can._ “Remember stay where I can see you okay, at least until my friends get here.”

With a nod, they both went onto the rink. They went their separate ways, but always in the sight of each other. Eventually, Boyd was so focused on his job he didn’t look up to see if Alisha was still there.

“Hi wonderful boyfriend of mine,” Erica shouted bouncing over to where Boyd was handing out skates.

He smiled as she leaned over the counter and kissed him.

“Hey Boyd,” Isaac waved. The bruises on this neck were mostly hidden by his ever-present scarf. It still pissed him off that he never realized what was happened to his best friend. But that wasn’t what that night was supposed to be about.

“So when are is your break?” Erica asked still leaning on the counter.

“Not for another hour.” She slightly deflated. “But since you’re here, you can …” Boyd looked at where Alisha had been the last time he saw her. How long ago was that? It couldn’t have been that long. No, it was… Glancing at the time, he realized it was an hour since he checked up on her. That couldn’t be right.

“Boyd?” Erica grew concerned.

Without an answer, he jumped over the counter and ran around the building, looking into every nook and cranny trying to find his sister. He looked everywhere and anywhere, his friends following him around asking what was going on. He didn’t answer, he had become a man on a mission. Not finding her inside, Boyd ran outside not caring that he could hear his boss yelling after him. His friends were too but all sound became white noise to him. Rounding the corner, he started calling Alisha’s name. Did his parents pick her up? No, they would’ve told him, and both of them were working pretty late that night. Did she meet a friend from school? That had happened before, but she always told him, so he knew what was going on. What the hell happened. Running towards the preserve, Boyd didn’t know what he was doing anymore. And that’s when he saw it: Alisha’s shoe. He knew instantly that it was her shoe, she gushed about the purple plaid sneakers for weeks. He picked it up and continued forward, slowly walking towards the tree line. He was hoping to not find any other clothing, and luckily he didn’t, but in its place, he found blood instead. Following the trail like a perverted version of breadcrumbs Boyd’s constant momentum forwards made him need to know what was at the end of the trail.

Boyd pictured his life, how every morning was a routine, and how one little change would make everything tumble down. If they ran out of coffee, how would his parents wake up? If he couldn’t make breakfast, would his family be able to work? If he had to skip his morning interaction with his sister, what would happen.

Eventually, like most things, the trail ended. And lying next to a large tree…

***

He stopped abruptly.

“Boyd,” Scott said, gently placing his hand over Boyd’s.

“I’m fine,” he said mostly as a reflex. He wasn’t fine and he hadn’t been for a long time.

After he found Alisha, he ran away, ran home, and waited for his parents to come home. He cried that night clutching one of her stuffed animals knowing that she’d never see them again. She’d never do anything again. She was taking that night and killed right under his nose. He had one job and he failed. The one thing he was supposed to do was watch his little sister and he didn’t. When his parents came home he apologized and apologized to them, but they had said it wasn’t his fault, even though it was. It would always be his fault.

And just as predicted, that one change to his morning routine _did_ change everything. He would get up later, sometimes almost being late for school, he didn’t wake his parents anymore or make their coffee or breakfast. At school, he’d hide away in the library or just walk home and ditch the day. He stopped answering his phone, letting the messages and voicemails pile up, deleting them when they filled his phone’s memory. Boyd even stopped going to work, he couldn’t step foot into the place that he’d last seen his little sister alive. Mr. Richards understood when Boyd finally just quit, which irritated him to no end. That was something he’d gotten since Alisha had died, understanding. What he wanted was for everything to just go back to how it was before, but one little thing changed everything forever.

“That’s what happened?” Erica asked breaking Boyd from these thoughts. Tears threatening to fall were evident in her eyes. “You found her? You could’ve told us.” Isaac was visibly crying trying not to make any sound.

“It’s okay, Isaac.”

“It’s not,” his voice cracked. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve talked about it.”

“I know, but…” Boyd looked at Isaac and then the group. “How do you tell people that _you’re_ the one who found your sister’s body?”

“Easily,” Theo said causing everyone in the room to look at him. “I had to do it, so you can do it too.”

“It’s not the same.”

“And why isn’t it?” Theo was getting angry.

“It just is,” Boyd was following suit.

“Guys,” Scott tried to get them to stop before it escalated any further.

There was a silence as the two boys calmed down but was broken by a whisper.

“At least you didn’t kill her.”

Stiles looked to his right. “What do you mean, Derek?”

Everyone turned in interest to the mostly silent boy. He tensed, realizing that he was heard and that he had become the center of attention.

“Derek?” Scott asked, trying to sound as much like Peter as he could.

“The fire that burned down our house. I caused it.” His voice grew louder as he spoke. “I killed my mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Derek.


	5. Derek

It took a few moments for anyone to say something to break the silence. Was Derek telling the truth? Did he really cause that fire? Did he really kill his mother?

“What do you mean, Derek?” Allison said as gently as she could. Even while trying to sound sensitive, she had a hint of interest in her voice. She winced at that, but at the same time, she wanted to know what really happened.

They all did. There had been rumors, like most tragic events, but if they learned something before their parents, hell the authorities, they’d be legends at school. They’d know what really happened the day the Hale house burned to the ground.

Derek hunched forward not wanting to answer. But he knew he had to. He’d marked himself as a murderer. Derek took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Scott said.

Derek loathed the tone Scott had used. It reminded him of Peter, and every therapist his uncle had forced on him to open up about his grief. But what Peter didn’t understand, or anyone for that matter, was that his grief was also tied to anger, guilt, and self-loathing. It wasn’t just one thing, it was everything.

“Fuck you, Scott,” he growled. Scott looked hurt, but he didn’t care. “You’re nothing like Peter, so stop pretending to be.”

Scott’s eyes widened. He looked as if he was lost.

Derek took another breath and began his story.

***

It was a terrible habit, Derek knew that he wasn’t stupid, but for a few minutes and the taste of nicotine on his tongue calmed his nerves. It started with his friends. They weren’t really his friends, but he didn’t think acquaintances worked any better. He knew their names and their likes and dislikes, but at the end of the day, Derek wouldn’t want to hang out with them for more than a few minutes a day. He could only tolerate them for the length he smoked his cigarette. That was when he realized that he only hung around them to bum one off them. Realizing that hanging out with those people caused him to smoke more should’ve deterred him from hanging out with them, but after smoking for so long, and getting a ‘cool kid’ reputation in his grade Derek felt like he couldn’t stop. After that, he figured out that there was a cashier at a gas station near his house that didn’t care who or what she sold. So he stopped hanging out with his friends and would smoke by himself.

If Derek was at school, he’d go across the street and smoke before anyone else showed up. At home, he’d crawl out his window and sit on the roof. He liked going there the best. Even if he didn’t smoke, Derek loved being on his roof to stare at the night sky and think.

He had just lit a cigarette when he heard his window open. He cursed as he tried to put it out and then palmed it as best as he could. Turning slightly, he saw his Uncle Peter come onto the roof and sit down next to him. They were silent for a few moments just enjoying the evening sky.

“Can I bum one off you?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know—”

“You’re not stupid, Derek, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I thought you quit.”

“I have one from time to time. It’s a hard habit to break.” They stayed silent for another moment listening to the forest. “So are you going to give me a cigarette or am I going to have to tell your mother you’re smoking?”

With a sigh, Derek reached over and grabbed his pack that he hid under a pile of leaves. “Do you need a lighter too?” He asked sarcastically handing the pack over.

“No,” Peter had a cigarette hanging from his mouth already, “I got one.” Pulling out a silver lighter, he lit his cig and took a slow drag in. He exhaled just as slowly, savoring the sensation. “You should smoke yours, Derek.”

“You’re not gonna tell on me?”

“Why would I?”

Derek was wary at first but lit his cigarette again and took a quick drag from it. They continued smoking and letting the peaceful night wash over them. It was nice not having to hide his habit from a family member. And Derek was happy it was Peter who found out, at least he wasn’t going to make a big stink about it like anyone else in his family.

Peter took one last drag and then snuffed it out before exhaling. “Your mother told me you’ve stopped seeing your friends?” So that was why Peter was there. His mother was concerned. “You know, you can talk to me about your dad.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him, Uncle.”

“Look, I get it.” He paused and then started again. “Okay, so maybe I don’t really since my parents are still together, but I’ve counseled teens on this before.”

“Fuck this,” Derek muttered and then pushed himself towards his window.

But before he could, Peter stopped him. “No, you’re not leaving. You really need to talk to someone about everything that’s happened with your dad.”

“Talk about what, Peter? Talk about how my dad fell out of love with my mom and started fucking some 20-year-old bimbo? Or how about the fact that he just left without saying goodbye to his fucking kids. What do you want me to talk about?”

“That, Derek. All of that.” He sighed knowing that what he was going to say was going to get some pushback. “You can come to my group meet—”

“I’m not going to your stupid fucking group sessions.”

“They’ve helped a lot of teens.”

“No, they haven’t, Peter. They haven’t helped anyone.”

“They have,” he insisted. “I know most people haven’t come back, but some have.”

“One has, Peter.”

“And that’s why I think you should come with me today. I think you two would—”

“If you think I’d be friends with that loser Scott, you are out of your fucking mind.”

“You need to stop cussing so much, Derek. You’re going to say the wrong thing to someone one of these days.”

Derek rolled his eyes. Yeah right. Like that was going to happen.

“Derek?” He heard his mom shout. Fuck. He didn’t have enough time to spray himself so he didn’t smell like smoke.

“Don’t worry,” his uncle said before shouting, “We’re out here, Tal.”

Derek glared at Peter, hoping the man would catch on fire.

“There you two are,” she said sticking her head out the window. “Breakfast is almost…” She stopped smelling the smoke in the air. “Are you smoking in front of your nephew, Peter?”

“It was one cigarette. It’s not like it’s going to hurt him.”

“If you don’t smoke in front of your kids, don’t do it in front of mine.”

Peter raised his hands as a way to apologize. “You said something about breakfast?” He asked to defuse the situation.

Talia sighed. “Yes, it’s almost ready. Derek, get cleaned up and come downstairs.” Derek nodded and went through the window back into his room. “You have a good chat with your uncle?”

“Yeah,” he nodded again. It was getting shockingly easy to lie to his mom.

Every Saturday his mom would serve breakfast and was the same as it had always been. Peter’s family were usually there anyway so it wasn’t difficult to get them there. Malia was with Cora being the moody pre-teens that they were while Rita and Channer, the twin four-year-olds, were running around while Laura went around chasing them. It was loud, but it was home. Derek helped set the table, carefully avoiding the running kids and his weird older sister who continued her chase.

“So Derek,” his aunt Hazel started as she helped to set the table, “how’s school?”

“Good.”

“You dating anyone?”

“Ha!” Laura laughed as she entered the dining room carrying her captured prisoners under each arm. “He’d have to talk to people to start dating.” She looked down at Rita. “Isn’t that right, prisoner?” Rita laughed which caused her brother to laugh as well.

“Shut up, Laura,” he growled.

“Stop it you two,” their mother warned. “Laura put down your cousins.”

“Can’t Mom, caught them fair and square.” Their mom wasn’t amused. “Okay,” Laura sighed as she put them down. “Go tell your sister the food is ready. And make sure it’s loud and annoying.”

“Laura!”

“It’s okay, Talia,” Aunt Hazel laughed, “They’re four. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Yeah, mom, they’re only that young once.”

Their mom rolled her eyes knowing how much trouble two four-year-olds could cause. “Peter are you done smoking, so you can get the twins before Malia kills them?”

“Been done for a while, big sister,” he smirked about to head upstairs when his wife stopped him.

“You were smoking?”

“Just one, it’s fine.”

“Strange, since you didn’t bring your cigarettes with you.”

Derek froze, trying desperately to move, just to get the fuck out of the room.

“Of course I did,” Peter said easily. His poker face was impressive.

“No,” Hazel said with authority. “You don’t pack them unless you’ve had a stressful week at work, but you haven’t had any new clients. So unless there’s something you’re not telling me, I know your habits better than you do, Peter.”

“I—” He looked at Derek as a way to apologize. But Derek wasn’t having it. He glared at his uncle. “Sorry, kiddo.”

His mom looked at her brother and then her son, who had intensified his glare to ‘death’. “Derek, are you smoking?” He looked at his mom, a lie on the tip of his tongue but she stopped him from saying it. “Bring me your cigarettes.”

“I don’t—” He tried again.

“Now is not the time to lie to me. Now, go get them or you’ll be in even more trouble than you already are.”

Derek grumbled as he grabbed his pack from his backpack. At least he had the other one on the roof. Before he was able to grab a few cigarettes to move to his other pack, it was snatched from his hand. Turning around he saw Laura smirking at him.

“You’re an idiot, little brother.” She turned the pack in her hands like she was reading each side. “Mom is gonna kill you.”

“Shut up,” he growled taking the small box back.

“Good luck in there, Derek.”

He didn’t care what his sister said, he was too angry to care. His stupid uncle exposing his secret, his stupid mom for overreacting, and his stupid father for causing everything, to begin with. Walking back into the room, Derek saw his mother sitting at the dining table. His mother always put a strong face with everything she did, but for the first time, she looked defeated. She was tired, even more tired than he’d ever seen her. Derek felt guilty for badmouthing her internally a few moments before.

“Give me the cigarettes, Derek.” Her hand was stretched out. Derek put the cigarettes in the open hand that quickly closed around them. Talia looked at the pack and sighed. “Derek. When did you start? Why’d you start?” Derek wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. So he just stayed quiet. She gave another sigh. “Is this because of your father?”

He gritted his teeth. “No.”

“Derek, I don’t get why you’d do this. I’d say peer pressure, but I know that can’t be it. You’re smarter than that. So what is it? Did something happen?”

“No,” he answered wanting to say more again. But what was he supposed to say, that he was bored and wanted a small form of rebellion to get back at his father?

“Derek, just tell me something so I know what’s going on with you.” He stayed silent, looking away. Talia sighed again. “I wish your father was here.”

He glared at his mother. “Why? So he’d not say a thing about it and just picture screwing his girlfriend that’s slightly older than Laura?”

“Derek!”

“You know it’s true, Mom.”

“Just because your father and I couldn’t make our marriage work doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

“Kind of does.”

Talia rolled her eyes. “You’re grounded.”

“What?”

“You’re grounded for two weeks.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“One month.”

“What the fuck!”

“You want to try for three months?”

Derek pushed his chair back, causing it to crash onto the floor. He was pissed. No, he was past that, he was furious.

“Fuck you,” he growled.

The look of hurt that crossed her face was quickly replaced by frustration. “Go to your room, Derek. Before I decide to ground you for the rest of your life.”

He huffed as he turned around leaving to room. But he stopped only turning his head to look at his mother again.

“I hate you,” he sneered, trying to get every bit of anger he had into those words. “I wish you were dead.”

He ran upstairs, slamming his door and doing the only thing he could. He needed a cigarette.

***

A comforting hand was placed on top of his. Derek looked over and saw that it was Stiles who had reached out.

“You okay?” Stiles whispered. He wasn’t but he could tell the rest of the story, but before he was about the answer him, Lydia asked her own question.

“What happened next?”

“Lydia,” Stiles criticized.

She looked at them innocently. “We all want to know.”

Stiles squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to tell them anything.”

Derek shook his head and continued. “Later that morning, Peter and his family had left and so did my sisters. At one point, my mom came up to my room and told me she was going to take a nap.” He paused knowing that wasn’t all she had said. “But I didn’t say anything. I smoked another cigarette and then climbed down off the roof and left. I was gonna run away.” He gave a humorless laugh. “My older sister found me and smacked some sense into me. Even made me give up smoking and apologize to Mom. But…” Tears were starting to come down his face.

“So you’re saying the fire was caused on the roof?” Lydia asked not giving the gravity of what Derek had said sink in. Nearly everyone in the room looked at her as if they couldn’t believe how heartless she could be.

“I don’t remember stubbing out the cigarette. I think it was still lit and fell into those old leaves that I should’ve cleaned weeks before.”

“You didn’t kill your mom,” she stated point-blank.

“What the hell is up with you, Lydia?”

“Stiles, you’re not stupid, so don’t play stupid.” He was taken back by that statement. “I know you read the accident report on the Hale fire as well.”

“How’d you read it?”

She smirked. “I have my ways. But where did the report say the fire started?”

He thought about it for a moment. “The basement,” Stiles said slowly.

“And where was Derek _not_ at when he was smoking?”

Derek started to tremble. It was an accident. That’s what killed his mom. But he’d wished it to happen. He was responsible. No, he wasn’t. It could’ve happened whether he had wished it or not.

His mind was racing a mile a second. He needed air.

Derek needed a cigarette.

That thought propelled him out of his chair and out the door. He barely heard his chair crash to the floor or the person shouting for him.

Everyone looked at Lydia with disappointment in their eyes.

“What?” She asked having no idea why she was being looked at like that. “I was just telling him that he didn’t kill his mom.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles sighed getting up from his seat. “Lydia, grow a fucking soul, would ya.” He then followed Derek out.

Lydia was shocked. No one had ever talked to her like that. She looked at her best friend and boyfriend but both were conveniently looking away.

Stiles ran down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of the elevator, it was already going down. He needed to catch up with Derek and say something, anything to get that guy to realize he wasn’t responsible for his mother’s death. Looking to the side, he saw the door for the stairs and yanked it open planning to run down them to meet Derek at the bottom. But instead, he saw him on the first landing silently crying. Stiles went through the door, slowly taking each step down.

“Derek?” He asked when he was halfway down, not wanting to startle him.

“Go away,” he said furiously wiping his face and started to move for the next staircase down.

“Wait.” Derek did as he was told, but not looking at Stiles. “Look I get it. Losing a parent sucks.”

“She told me she loved me,” he practically whispered. Stiles almost missed it but was thankful he caught it. He was about to say something since Derek stayed silent but then he continued on his own. “Before she went for her nap, she told me she loved me.” He let out a sob. “And I didn’t say it back. I always did. The last thing I told my mom was that I wished she was dead. I did this to her.”

Stiles sighed and sat on one of the steps. “If you killed your mom, then I killed mine.”

Derek looked up at him. “What?”

“My mom was sick for a long time. Frontotemporal dementia. I learned what it was called when I was too young to even pronounce my own name correctly. By the end, she had no idea who anyone was, even going so far as to attack me. I told her I wished she was dead too. A week later she was. So, Derek, if you killed your mom I killed mine.”

They stared at each other, Derek realizing that he had someone who knew exactly what he was going through right in front of him. Eventually, he sighed and sat down on one of the lower steps.

“How’d you…get past that?” He would’ve said ‘over it’, but knew that losing a parent was something a person didn’t get over.

“Therapy, mostly. Not like this, I went to an actual therapist for about two years after my mom died. And I had my dad.” He paused and looked at Derek. “How’s _your_ dad handling everything?”

Derek scoffed. “I don’t care. That bastard could be miserably for all I know.”

“You’re not living with your dad?”

“No, I live with my uncle Peter and his family.”

“What about your sisters?”

“We’re all living together. After the fire, my dad wanted to take us with him, but I refused. Peter said that he’d take me in and also argued that Laura and Cora should be with me too.”

“At least you have your family.”

He smiled. “True.”

The door above them slammed open. “Oh, good,” Erica said from the doorway, “I was hoping I didn’t have to look for you two losers downstairs. You two coming back or what?”

“We don’t have to,” Stiles told Derek. “We can just ditch the rest of this. Take a bus or something and go home.”

Derek thought about it for a bit but shook his head. “No, I think we should go back. Listen to the other’s.” He got up and started up the stairs. “And I can figure out how messed up you are.” He then laughed as he ran up the stairs.

“Oh, yay,” Stiles sarcastically said before following up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Isaac.


	6. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about Isaac, and just like in the show, this will be talking about his abusive father. If you don't like reading about abuse, please don't read between the page breaks (***). You won't be missing a lot of the story not reading it so don't worry.

“That was a dick thing to do, Lydia,” Erica said the moment the door slammed behind Stiles.

“Oh, shut up, Erica. I just told him the truth so he’d stop blaming himself for being stupid.”

“For being a teen, you mean?” Theo asked.

“Yeah, but most people don’t think they killed their parents,” Jackson remarked.

“No, some people break into daddy’s liquor cabinet and take what they want, right Jax?”

“Shut it Raeken. I don’t drink.” Both Lydia and Allison gave him a look. “Much. But I don’t take anything from my dad. I pay for it myself.”

“Jackson,” Lydia sighed, “please tell me you’re not that stupid.” Instead of answering, he winced.

“I’m going to see where they went,” Erica told Boyd.

“Looks like you chose a winner there, Ms. Martin.” Theo laughed.

“More than you’ll ever be,” she quickly retorted.

“Guys,” Boyd said noticing how the arguing was affecting Isaac. He was curling into himself like he usually did whenever there was yelling.

“Worried I’d be too much for you, baby,” a cocky smirk was evident on his face. He even grabbed his crouch like that proved anything. Lydia looked at him in disdain while Jackson jumped out of his chair.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“Jackson, can you please sit back down.” Scott could barely be heard.

Theo got up too, pushing his chair back causing Isaac to flinch at the sound. He then covered his ears. “What are you gonna do about it, Whittemore?”

“Theo, Jackson, guys please sit back down.” Scott pleaded again.

Boyd could see how distressed Isaac was getting and knew he had to put an end to it.

“Guys!” His voice carried over the arguing group who stopped and looked at him, but his attention was on his best friend. “It’s okay, Isaac. They’ve stopped.”

The shouting was always too much for Isaac to take. It started with his parents. Throughout the night, their yelling would keep Isaac up. Back then, he had his older brother, Camden, to protect him from the shouting match downstairs. Camden would read to him, or play a game, anything to get Isaac’s mind off the yelling. By the time he was 7, that was when the abuse started. One night, their mother had left, telling her boys that she’d be back one day for them, but that day never came. Isaac later learned it was because she had died in a car accident a few months after she’d left. But at the time it crushed them that she never came back to take them away from their father. Camden took most of the abuse, trying to protect his little brother from a lot of the damage, but eventually, it became too much. He left home one night when he was 16 and never returned. He didn’t even try to promise his brother anything like their mother had. Isaac was 12, alone, and had to take all the abuse. From a young age, it was always yelling but as he got older it became more physical, slaps at first, and then moved on to slaps and punches. He even got a few kicks to the ribs. But the worst was the freezer.

The freezer was just a huge dingy box. Camden was never punished with the freezer, that was something their father cooked up just for Isaac. After a while, Mr. Lahey would hit Isaac a few times and just throw him into the freezer for an hour at most, while he drank more waiting to beat his son more when Isaac got out.

Isaac took a ragged breath in and opened his eyes. Everyone in the room was looking at him each face ranging from confusion to intrigue but most looked at him in pity. Except for Scott who looked at him purely with concern. He slowly moved his hands away from his head.

“You okay?” Boyd asked.

He looked at his best friend and nodded.

The door opened again and whatever Stiles was saying was cut off when he saw how the room looked.

“Okay, did all hell break lose while we were gone?” He asked staring at the group.

Erica pushed herself past the two boys as she saw the state Isaac was in. “Are you okay?” She asked when she kneeled in front of him. He nodded again, giving a weak smile trying to be reassuring. “I bet it was all your fault,” she sneered pointing at Lydia who looked as if she was about to make a protest but was stopped when—

“Enough,” Scott shouted but it didn’t affect Isaac like it normally would. “Everyone sit down, and Lydia if you are going to be a problem like I said before, you can leave.” No one moved, causing him to be self-conscious about what he’d just said. “Please?”

Derek rolled his eyes, knowing he had to help the poor guy. “Theo, Jackson, we get it. You think you’re both alphas.” Both boys glared at him. “Now sit down and shut up so we can finish this, okay?” It took a few moments but they went back to their seats. Satisfied, Derek went back and was quickly followed by Stiles.

“That was really cool, Derek.”

He shrugged. “I know how to talk to people.”

When everyone was sitting back down, Scott took a calming breath. “Thank you,” he whispered to Derek.

Derek nodded his head once and looked away. He then looked back.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Scott smiled and then took another breath. “So, who wants to go next?” He scanned the room looking at the ones that hadn’t gone. “Isaac? Would you like to go?”

Isaac could feel Boyd tense next to him, which made him smile. Ever since his secret was revealed, both Erica and Boyd became increasingly protective. He looked at his friends and gave a smile before turning back to Scott.

“My father died about four months ago.” He paused trying to figure out the best way to say what he wanted to. “And I’m really glad he is.”

Around the group, each person looked concerned by Isaac’s statement. That was beside his two friends and surprisingly Jackson who rolled his eyes at everyone’s expression.

“His dad beat him for years,” he said as a further explanation.

“How’d you know that Jax?” Allison asked.

Jackson looked away.

“Because he used to live across the street from Isaac,” Lydia answered.

Isaac nodded. He took a breath.

“You don’t have to say anything, Isaac.” Scott looked worried.

Isaac slowly exhaled. Originally, he’d planned to do just that, listen to everyone else and stay silent. Never tell anyone about what he lived with for years, but he didn’t want to be afraid anymore.

He smiled. “No, I think it’s time.”

***

Working all day and doing the work of three grown men all by himself caused Isaac to be tired the moment he got home. But he knew he couldn’t stop yet; he still had to make dinner, clean the house, and finish his homework. If he was lucky his dad would be passed out in front of the TV and wouldn’t notice how late it was.

For the millionth time, he wondered if he should run away just like Cam had done years before. Maybe he could find some people who’d take him in. Or maybe he’d find a person that only wanted Isaac for his body and then kill him. Both were good possibilities but at that moment he was leaning towards the latter.

Opening the door as silently as he could, it squeaked every so often from years of use, he entered the house. It was dark inside and he couldn’t hear his father’s drunken snoring. Maybe he wasn’t home, or maybe he actually made it to his bed. Closing the door he sighed in relief that that night he wouldn’t have to deal with his father.

A plate smashed into the door forcing him to close it with a slam.

“Where have you been?” Mr. Lahey slurred holding a scotch bottle in one hand and another plate in his other. An assortment of plates was near him, each with residue of old food still on them. Isaac didn’t know how long they’d been there but he could guess some had been there for months. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he slowly turned around never looking his dad in the eyes. “I just got off work.”

The next plate smashed close to his head. Isaac started to tremble knowing that the plate was meant for his head. “Did you just backtalk?”

“No, sir,” he whispered, trying not to cry or it could be worse.

“That’s what I thought.” He took a swig of the whiskey and then a larger one. “Now go make my dinner, and make it fast. You’re already late enough as it is.” Isaac nodded and moved quickly to the kitchen. He was stopped by his father grabbing his face forcing him to look up. “You look just like your mother,” his voice was soft for a moment but then the grip tightened causing his son to try to get away. “That bitch left, and then that worthless brother of yours did as well. But you’re smart enough to never leave, right my boy?” He didn’t answer right away which angered his father more. “When I ask you a question I expect an answer.” The liquor on his breath was strong and nauseated Isaac. “Do I have to put you in the freezer for the night to show you I deserve the respect you seem to be lacking?”

That sobered Isaac up, his fear causing him to start trying to get away again. “No, no, no,” he pleaded, hoping that his father would take pity on him. The size difference was not in his favor as he struggled to escape. A hard slap stopped him from talking. Another one stopped him from trying to move. A third one was just to be cruel.

“I think that’s a perfect punishment for such a good-for-nothing son I’ve been forced to deal with.”

Isaac started to yell as he was dragged by his hair down towards the basement. He hoped that someone would help him that time but he wasn’t hopeful any longer. That dream was long dead as far as he knew. Even as he was pushed down into the freezer, Isaac continued to yell and beg, tears falling freely. He didn’t want to be in there, he didn’t want to be tortured by his own father, he didn’t want the life he had. But that was the hand he was dealt. And he either fought against it or succumbed to it.

The lid slamming shut sealed his decision. The sound of the lock clicking closed put the nail in his coffin.

He tried to slow his breathing; from past experiences, he knew he could pass out if he didn’t control himself. His sobs grew softer and he accepted his fate for the time being.

And so he waited. He waited the usual time his father kept him in there. He waited after that. He even waited when he grew tired and started to fall asleep. He probably did because when the lid was opened, Isaac remembered opening his eyes and saw people who weren’t his father. There was were a few sheriff deputies who were making sure he was okay. Eventually, he was carried out of the freezer and even his house. The commotion of the deputies' car lights caused everyone from the neighborhood to come out and see what was going on. He even saw people from school, but one face stood out from the others. Jackson Whittemore was talking to the sheriff. He looked at Isaac for a second but then left in the middle of his conversation.

***

“I never figured out how they found out where I was,” Isaac said wiping his face from the last remaining tears he had. “No one ever knew about that old freezer.”

“How long had that happened?” Allison asked.

“Years.”

“Years?” Allison, Erica, and Stiles yelled at the same time.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Isaac?” Erica was dumbfounded.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jackson scoffed. Some of the people glared at him. “At any point, he could’ve called the police himself but did he? No. He took the abuse for years, letting that fucker even lock him into a freezer for hours at a time.”

“How’d you know that?” Isaac was curious. Jackson turned away, his cheeks turning red. That was a weird reaction for Isaac. Why was he blushing? “Jackson?”

It seemed as if Jackson wasn’t going to say anything.

“Please?”

Jackson sighed. “Because I’m the one who led the deputies down to that deathtrap you called a freezer. They were about to leave when I told them about you. And then those idiots said you weren’t there but I knew you were and I knew your dad had dragged you downstairs somewhere so I told them that. I’m just lucky they weren’t stupid enough not to believe me.”

“You saved my life,” Isaac smiled.

“I didn’t…”

“Damn, Jackson,” Stiles said, “you’re a hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Jackson


	7. Jackson

Jackson rolled his eyes. He wasn’t a hero, he was…just a concerned neighbor. Yeah, that was it. So what if he was the one who led the deputies down to the basement, having seen where the door was a few months before. Or that he knew about the abuse when he saw a hit with his own eyes before then. Or how bad it was or the severity of the bruises that littered Isaac’s body.

It all started innocently enough when Jackson saw them after climbing the tree outside of Isaac’s window. He just wanted to do was see him shirtless since he never caught a chance after P.E. class. But after seeing all those dark marks over his chest and arms, he vowed to become Isaac’s guardian at school. He even went so far as beating up a teammate who pushed Isaac into some lockers. So he pushed the teammate into some lockers, repeatedly. Jackson had been benched for the next three games, but it was worth it. After that, no one bothered Isaac ever again.

And why was Jackson trying to see Isaac shirtless in the first place? Well…

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that.

Looking up, Jackson noticed that everyone was looking at him.

“You okay, dude?” Stiles asked gently.

“Yeah,” he tried to play it off, but his voice shook a bit.

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, “I had said that you didn’t answer Isaac’s question.”

“What?” He looked at Isaac and then quickly looked away. What the hell was wrong with him? And why couldn’t they just drop it and move on? “Look, does it matter? He’s safe, and his dad’s dead. It’s a happy ending.”

“It’s not,” Isaac squeaked out.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“My foster parents.” Jackson took a shaky breath in thinking the worst. “They’re really great and I love them and their kids, but eventually they’ll just ship me off somewhere else.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because nothing good stays around me for long.” His voice shook again. “Something’ll happen and I’ll be sent to another family. They’re my third since I’ve been in the system.”

“Well that first one was insane,” Erica angrily said. “At least she didn’t beat you.”

“But I bet the yelling was just as bad,” Boyd interjected. “I thought you were with the McMichael’s?”

“They couldn’t handle my nightmares so they sent me away.”

“Assholes,” Jackson muttered hoping no one heard him but because of how close she was, Lydia did.

“So who do you live with now?” Lydia asked.

“The Fitzgerald’s.”

“I know them,” Allison said. “They brought a cake over after my mom died and Mrs. Fitzgerald even offered to be someone I could talk to if I needed anything I was too embarrassed to ask my dad for.”

“They’re always like that. But nothing good ever lasts.” He started to tear up. “I’ll eventually have to leave them and then I’ll be homeless.”

The group erupted in telling him that it wouldn’t happen, ranging from Erica and Boyd saying they’d take him in if need be, to Stiles saying that his dad would never let that happen, to Lydia, the logical one of the group, stating that the foster care system wasn’t _that_ broken.

“You can live with me.” Jackson’s voice broke through all the rest. The group stopped and stared at him. With the unwanted attention, he tried to continue and say something about Mr. Whittemore being happy to help or something like that but he couldn’t. Mostly because that asshole Theo had to open his big mouth.

“And why is that Jackson? Lydia not enough, you want a boyfriend too?”

Jackson’s clenched his fists. That fucker. At any other place, Theo would’ve been beaten to a bloody pulp.

“Theo,” Scott sighed, “shut the hell up.” Jackson wanted to laugh as Theo’s cocky smirk fell. “Jackson, do you want to tell us why you’re here?”

“Yeah, Jax, share with the group how fucked up you are.” The cocky smirk returned and the urge to punch it off his face returned just as strong.

“My parents are finalizing their divorce,” he was going to take the high road even if the urge to attack that fucker was strong. “I’ve been living with my…dad,” he tried not to hesitate with that word but it was hard not to when he learned everything. “My mom… well she moved to Vegas right after filing for divorce. She never asked if I wanted to go with her, but if I was I would’ve stayed with…”

“Your father?” Scott supplied.

“That guy,” Jackson flatly responded.

“Do you not get along with him?”

“Yeah,” Stiles butted in, “I thought you just said you would’ve chosen to stay with your father if given the chance.”

“We get along fine, it’s just…” No, he wasn’t going to talk about that. He wasn’t going to tell these people his problems.

“Has the divorce been hard to deal with?” Allison asked. Thank God for her. She made it easier to stay on topic.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Before the arguments were about where’d they go to dinner or on vacation but recently they’d been about business and money and…” _me…_ “And at first it was fine since they aren’t living together, but I think the distance made it worse. Every time the phone rings, I just know a shouting match is about to happen.”

***

It was 5 p.m. when the phone rang. It was usually around that time when Mrs. Whittemore would call. It was as if she would stare at the clock all day and call at the same time, like a demented cuckoo clock. And like always, Mr. Whittemore couldn’t let the phone ring or let the answering machine pick it up. The conversations always started cordial and respectful but would quickly devolve into negotiations about the house or the cars. Jackson would listen to some of the conversations, not that he really wanted to, but when he did, he’d grow more and more irritated with them for disturbing him as he tried to get a snack or do his homework somewhere other than his room. After a while, he gave up and either went up to his room or left the house altogether. But there were some days his best friends, Danny and Ethan, were there to do some homework or just hangout.

“Is it always like that?” Danny asked even though he’d been over a lot in the past.

“Nothing new here,” Jackson tried to sound nonchalant about it as he laid down on his bed but it didn’t really work.

“I thought it was bad before,” Ethan said turning on Jackson’s large TV. Danny immediately grabbed the remote and turned it back off. “What the…?”

“We’re here to study, not watch TV,” he reminded his boyfriend and then leaned in close so Jackson couldn’t hear, “and to get Jax’s mind off of his parents’ divorce.”

Even if he whispered that last word for Jackson’s sake, but he still heard it. He didn’t want pity, least of all from his best friends. Especially, when from time to time they forget he was there and started making out which always lead to them dry humping each other in _his_ bedroom. Danny realized what he was doing and moved away from Ethan.

“So,” he awkwardly started getting a book out and putting it strategically over his crotch, “where’s Lydia tonight?”

“With her mom doing something.” After her parent’s divorce the year before, Lydia was the only one who knew what he was going through. But she didn’t ask how he was doing like everyone else, which was a good _and_ bad thing. It was good because after a while that question was annoying, he didn’t want to talk about it. It was bad because Jackson just wanted _someone_ who knew what he was going through to talk to. Talk about things he wanted to tell someone, anyone, who wouldn’t give him a generic response. It would be pretty logical for it to be his girlfriend that had divorced parents herself to be that someone but Lydia wasn’t that kind of person. That was a reason Jackson was attracted to her, but over time it became strife in their relationship.

“Didn’t I hear her talking to Allison about going dress shopping,” Danny was desperately tried to continue on any subject that wasn’t his parents. If it had been another topic, he would’ve gone for it, but his girlfriend was something he didn’t want to think about either.

“Don’t know,” he said and then muttered, “don’t really care.” Jackson started to gather his notes so he could study, or at least pretend he was, not really paying attention.

“What’s up your ass, dude,” Ethan commented. “Not getting laid or something?”

“Ethan,” Danny chastised.

“What? I’m just trying to figure out why he’s in a dick mood.”

“Maybe it’s because his parents are going through a nasty divorce?” He sighed, realizing he said the ‘D’ word. Jackson didn’t care about that. It was funny at first to see Danny avoid the word ‘divorce’ like it was a curse but it very quickly turned and he just wanted his friend to say the word aloud like a normal person. “Sorry, Jax, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he really didn’t want to get into it. So instead he got up. “I’m gonna get some snacks. Do you guys want anything?”

“No thank you—” Danny started but was interrupted by his boyfriend.

“Nah,” Ethan said pulling Danny into his lap, “I have enough sweets with this one.” He then began to playfully bite Danny’s neck.

“Stop,” he laughed with absolutely no heat in his voice.

Before Jackson could leave, he saw them share a kiss. He closed the door hoping he didn’t slam it. There was a weird feeling in his gut that he fought every time he watched his friend’s kiss. At first, he feared it was disgust because then he’d have to tell them about it and they’d probably distance themselves from him. Thankfully, that wasn’t it. But Jackson couldn’t figure out what was going on. That was until he noticed Isaac Lahey. It wasn’t like Isaac was anything special but for some strange reason, Jackson liked what he saw. And when he acknowledged his budding attraction, reality hit. Jackson had a girlfriend. A girlfriend that he loved. A girlfriend because he was straight.

Jackson paused before entering the kitchen when he heard his father on the phone. “Don’t use that tone with me, Marcia.” Mr. Whittemore warned. He was pacing around the kitchen. “I’m not being unreasonable. There is no reason to get that much for your alimony.” He paused at the kitchen island and started to drum on the countertop. “Marcia, you aren’t getting that much. Because you never worked so all the money in our account is from me.”

Moving around the corner, Jackson planned to make a beeline to grab some snacks quickly. He hurried past not being noticed and grabbed a half-empty bag of chips from the cupboard, his eyes then landing on the empty house across the street. It was quieter in the neighborhood when Mr. Lahey passed, but it sucked because that meant that Isaac had to move. He still felt guilty for not saying anything earlier but he did do something. Maybe he could’ve done more, or maybe he could’ve done something sooner.

“No, Marcia I’m not going to ask for child support.” Jackson rolled his eyes, that was the fourth time they had had that conversation. “Well, like I’ve said before that would require you to get a job to pay me child support.” Jackson smirked, opening another cabinet to grab some cookies. “Just because Jackson isn’t mine doesn’t change anything. I’ll raise him just the same.” That caught Jackson’s attention. What did he mean by that? Turning around, he noticed that his dad’s…or Mr. Whittemore, had his back to him. “I don’t get why this was always a big thing for you. We couldn’t have kids. Who cares. We have Jackson. That’s enough for me.” What the fuck was he talking about? The cookie package he’d been holding fell from his grasp crinkling on the ground causing Mr. Whittemore to turn. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Marcia I’m going to have to call you back.” Without waiting for a reply he hung up. “Jackson.”

“What were you talking about?”

“Listen—”

“Did you steal me?”

“No, nothing like that—”

“Then what did you mean that I’m not yours?”

“Can you calm down, Jackson? Take a seat and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Mr. Whittemore sighed and took a seat at the island himself. “Suit yourself. Now, I wanted to tell you this for a while but things got in the way.”

“What things?”

“The divorce mostly, but life in general.”

“What have you been meaning to tell me?”

“I’d really prefer if you seat down for this.” Jackson wasn’t moving. With another sigh, he continued. “You’re adopted.”

“What?”

***

“He’s not my father,” Jackson repeated. “My…parents,” God it was hard to say that word, “they adopted me when I was a newborn. They don’t know who my birth parents were. I could look for them if I wanted. Mr.… I mean…my dad… said I could, but I don’t know if I want to.” A humorless chuckle escaped. “For years I thought they were my parents but they were lying to me. Those fuckers kept that from me.”

“Would it have been better if you knew earlier?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, maybe? Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a shock.”

“Really?” Theo just had to say something. “You never realized?”

“Fuck you, Theo,” Jackson growled.

“Actually,” Stiles winced, “I thought you were from your dad’s first marriage.”

“First marriage?”

“Yeah, wasn’t your dad married before?”

“No,” then Jackson thought about it. Was he? “No,” he repeated less sure.

“Are you sure?” Erica smirked.

“Yeah, Jackson, are you sure?” Derek laughed.

“Shut up,” he chuckled himself. Most of the group laughed along until Scott brought everyone back.

“Okay, let’s get back.” Jackson was relieved thinking they were going to move past him. “Jackson you said something about your best friends?”

“What about them?”

“That you want to fuck them,” Theo mused. “You know, I was joking about that wanting a boyfriend thing. Who knew I was hitting the nail on the head.”

Jackson’s jaw twitched. He was about to jump out of his seat before Lydia put her hand on his knee.

“He doesn’t want them like that,” she said confidently. Jackson gave a satisfied smirk. “But it is a guy he has a crush on.” The smirk fell and he turned to his girlfriend. How the hell did she know? “Oh, come on, Jackson. You’re not very discrete.”

“How…?”

“I’ve known for a while now. I just figured you’d finally grow a pair and ask him out, but I can see that that’s not going to happen any time soon. Especially since your crush has a crush on someone else.”

“Lydia…”

“I’m not going to say anything to them. I’m not that cruel.”

“Don’t you think continuing a relationship with someone who doesn’t love you is cruel,” Stiles wondered.

“I do love her, Stilinski. I just…” He didn’t want to finish that sentence. If he did he’d have to acknowledge he was… Fuck! Why was it so hard to say? It wasn’t like he didn’t know anyone like that, for fuck sake his best friends were and were together. But why couldn’t he say it about himself?

“When I came out to my dad,” Stiles said, “he didn’t believe me.” He then chuckled. “It’s funny now, but back then I was really pissed off. I think it was even worse because I was outside of the Jungle when I did it.”

“You’re kidding?” Erica laughed.

He laughed as well. “No, I tried to sneak in, I even bought a fake ID and everything, but everyone in town knows who I am because of my dad so that was a waste. They refused to let me in _and_ they called my dad to pick me up. Adding insult to injury. When he came to pick me up, he thought I was there to get drunk and we had a whole argument in front of a bunch of people. And then I just said, ‘Dad, I’m bisexual.’ He then doubted me for a good two minutes until he eventually realized I was telling the truth. But before that, I had to accept it myself.”

“I did too,” Scott replied.

“Same here,” Derek added.

“I only recently accepted it,” Isaac said. “More because I could comfortably think it without the fear of my dad.”

“Well, I’m not,” the word ‘ready’ on the tip of his tongue.

“And you don’t have to be,” Lydia patted his knee, “but I’m breaking up with you.”

The group looked at her in surprise.

“I get why you’re doing that,” Scott tried, still surprised, “but shouldn’t you do that in private.”

“And why would any of you care? There are only three people in this room at the top of the high school food chain. Most of you aren’t even on the list. So who would believe any of you if you told anyone about our breakup?” She then turned to Jackson. “On Monday, we’ll have another argument, one that I orchestrate so people don’t find out the real reason.”

“Why? Why do we have to do that? Can’t we just tell everyone we broke up over the weekend?”

“Because eventually someone will find out why, and I refuse to be the smart, pretty girl who got dumped by her gay boyfriend.”

“Lydia,” Scott chastised, “what is your problem? What makes you think we won’t tell our friends what happened here?”

“And who would you tell, Scott? It’s not like you have any friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Lydia


	8. Lydia

Lydia Martin had always been smart and gifted. By the time she was in the first grade, she was already reading at a 5th-grade level and doing equations that were advanced even for her teacher. That was around when she learned a life lesson: most of the adults in her life were idiots.

Not all of them thought, her Aunt Sylvia was one of the adults that Lydia would allow to babysit her. Sylvia reveled in it, bringing books for her niece that were extremely advanced and sometimes even in different languages. Lydia loved their time together. But that all changed when her aunt got married to a man that Lydia hated for the simple fact that he took her Aunt Sylvia’s attention away from her. She learned another life lesson on the day of her aunt’s wedding: men ruin everything.

That statement even included her own father. When Lydia was 10 she found out her father was cheating on her mom. He asked her to keep it their ‘little secret’. Lydia did for five years, but at the cost of getting pretty much anything she asked for. At first, they were more bribes her father gave her to stay quiet, but over time they became demands that he followed. The only reason it stopped was that her mom finally got her head out of her ass and realized the years of infidelity that happened right under her nose.

But before that, she didn’t think all men were bad, she already knew of their uses from some of the books her aunt would still give her. A year after learning that her own father was trash like all other men, she met Jackson. His parents were rich so he always had the newest things and because of that, he was quite popular which intrigued Lydia. Why would having the latest phone or the coolest clothes make a person that really didn’t have anything else going for them (true Jackson was handsome and was good at sports but that was it) have it all? He brought nothing else to the table. So why did every guy want to be him and every girl want to hang off him like he was a tree?

So Lydia started researching what made someone popular, reading her books, and starting to emulate what those women were doing. Well, to a point, she _was_ only 12 at the time. People started to really notice her and even Jackson wanted to be around her. That was when her father’s bribes came in handy and when they didn’t that was when they became demands. The hottest fashion, the newest technology, and even the promise of a car when Lydia got her license. She had learned yet another life lesson: being smart was overrated, it was better to be popular.

For a time Lydia lived her life with three important P’s guiding the way. She was Pretty, Popular, and very Perceptive. They worked together in her life seamlessly. Being pretty helped her be popular and being preceptive helped her stay that way.

But there were a few hiccups along the way that her life lessons or her three P’s could help her with. Her parents’ divorce for one. After months of passive-aggressive behavior towards each other, they finally decided to get a divorce. When asked who she wanted to stay with, Lydia said her mom immediately, even going so far as telling her father that ‘men ruin everything’. It wasn’t because she didn’t like her father, or that she loved her mom more, it was for the simple fact that her father could take care of himself. He’d be able to live to see her graduate. Her mom, on the other hand, would most likely die of an accident that could’ve been easily prevented. Lydia had to help her mom because she was an idiot.

Next, it was Jackson and all his problems he tried to hide from everyone, even himself. Lydia saw everything, she knew everything. She realized that her boyfriend might not be 100% straight when he started talking about Isaac Lahey, a boy Lydia had to look up because she honestly had no idea who that was. At first, she thought it was just because they were neighbors, Jackson saw him every day, but over time Jackson’s comments started to add up. They were numerous and seemed to grow. Lydia felt stupid for not realizing what was going on, but once she did she tried to get Jackson to admit it to at least himself. But pushing caused him to try to reaffirm his “straightness” and that was why she gave her virginity to him. It wasn’t great, wasn’t bad either if she was honest, but something was missing. It might’ve been a connection since he couldn’t look her in the eyes while he was on top of her. Even after, he just couldn’t look at her. That was the end of the relationship according to Lydia, but she couldn’t just end it with Jackson. She had to make it look like Jackson was cheating on her or something, without exposing his attraction to men. He was just making everything more difficult since they had an image to maintain.

Talking about that image, Lydia was growing bored of her popularity. The people that surrounded her were just like yes-men, they didn’t have a single original thought in their heads. That was why she liked Allison. She wasn’t like the others, she had opinions that differed from Lydia. Allison even challenged her mentally at times as well. For a time, she even wondered if she was attracted to her best friend. So, like the researcher she was, she went out and found out. It ended with her kissing Allison and then deciding that, no, she wasn’t attracted to her but the option of being with a woman in the future was still on the table. Allison was confused at first but accepted it not knowing what else to do with that information. They continued their friendship agreeing to never talk about the kiss. So realizing that her relationship with Jackson was over and she wasn’t going to start one with Allison, Lydia started to study more, reading the books she had been neglecting to maintain her popularity.

Popularity was completely overrated.

***

“So, Lydia,” Peter said, trying desperately to move on from yet another failure of trying to get a teen to talk, “how are you dealing with your parents’ divorce?”

She had been to three group meetings. It was her mother’s idea thinking that she needed someone to talk to about their divorce like it mattered to her. She agreed thinking it was going to be like a traditional therapy session, but after the first five minutes, she realized she was wrong. Watching her fellow teens avoid questions for over an hour was not how she planned to spend her Saturday. But she went back because she could tell Peter (he refused to be called ‘Mr. Hale’) really wanted to help. He just wasn’t very good about how to go about it.

“I’m fine about that,” she stated quickly continuing her sentence, “but I think my boyfriend is gay.”

Some of the group laughed. Lydia was smart enough to go to a group where most of the people didn’t go to her school.

Peter was deeply confused. In each of the sessions, she’d segue into a different subject.

Peter cleared his throat. “Not why you’re here, Lydia.”

“I understand, but that is more important than how I’m feeling about my parents’ divorce.”

“Your opinions matter.”

“I know that, but they’re better apart so I don’t care about that. How do I get my boyfriend to come out,” she forged on with what really mattered.

“Lydia,” Peter sighed like most adults did when they talked to her, “we’ve been over this. We’re here to talk about what’s going on—”

“I’m trying to.”

“—With your parents’ divorce.” He practically yelled in frustration, but took a breath and continued calmly. “I know you’re feeling something about it.”

“Not really.”

He paused. “You don’t feel anything about it?”

“Should I? My father cheated on my mom.”

“Okay,” he thought he was finally getting somewhere, “how did that make you feel?”

“That men ruin everything,” some of the girls nodded to that, “and my mom is an idiot for not realizing he’d been doing it for years.”

Peter studied her as if trying to figure out what to say next. “Okay, then let’s talk about your…gay boyfriend. How’d you feel when he came out to you?”

“He hasn’t yet.”

“What?”

“Are you telling me that you _think_ your boyfriend is gay?” A girl said who had earlier admitted to doing heroin with her mom. She obviously had no right to be snotty.

“I don’t _think_ it, I know it.”

“How do you know that?” Peter tried to figure out what was going on.

“Because he has a crush on a boy at school.”

“How do you know it’s a crush?”

“He talks about this guy all the time. At first, I believed it was because they’re neighbors but then it kept happening, what he did that day, who he was talking to, who tried to bully him. It’s been nonstop. So it’s a crush, he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“And why do you think he doesn’t?”

“Because he’s an idiot.”

Peter sighed. “Let’s get back to your parents’ divorce.”

“I could’ve sworn I’ve already talked about that.”

“Lydia, that’s what this group is about. I’m hoping that you guys can work out your grief or anger or whatever you’re feeling by talking to people who are going through similar situations.”

“Then you’re delusional.” It may have been said in anger but was a simple fact.

“Excuse me?”

“Peter, if you think teens are going to want to talk to each other about what’s going on with them, then you’re a moron. They’re not, because who knows what’s going on better than us.” Her voice took an angry tone as she continued. “If you got your head out of your ass you’d realized this is a hopeless endeavor because we don’t care what’s happening to other people, we’re only interested in what’s happening to ourselves.” Peter stared at her in shock but the twitch of his left eye and the clenching of his fists showed how his anger was growing. “You were a teen once, and you work with them all the time, so you know what I’m saying is completely true.”

He clenched his fists again but then released them as if in defeat. He broke eye contact with Lydia before regarding the group. “Let’s end this group early.” Without a second glance, the teens ran from the room. Peter sighed, hanging his head. When he looked up, he noticed that not all of them were gone. Lydia Martin was still sitting right in front of him. “You can leave, Lydia.”

“You’re a licensed therapist?” She asked instead of leaving.

“Yes, I am,” he snapped. “I volunteer here at the hospital. And let me just tell you, this group works, it’s not—”

“Do you have any openings?”

Peter sputtered at the abrupt question. “Yes, but—”

“Do I call your office and set up an appointment or can I set one up with you?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“No, I’m not,” she said calmly as she stood up. “I couldn’t care less what those others think but the reason I’ve been coming back is because of you, Peter.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe you’re competent. And I don’t think many adults are.”

They stared at each other for a few moments until Peter broke the silence. “Call my office Monday and we can set up a time for you.”

Lydia gave a nod and left. On Monday and Wednesday evenings she had sessions with Peter for an hour. They talked mostly about what was going on in Lydia’s life, at least that’s what it felt like, but they did talk about what was bother her at the moment. Even getting advice for most of her problems. Peter was even trying to work on Lydia’s bluntness, with varying success.

***

“Lydia!” Most of the group shouted.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Stiles yelled.

“I always knew you were a bitch,” Erica shook her head, “but I didn’t know you were just plain mean.”

“Just because you’re popular doesn’t let you get away with saying stuff like that,” Boyd accused.

“Like any of you noticed Scott,” Lydia sneered back. “Admit it, who knew who he was before today?”

Scott looked around with hope in his eyes that dimmed the longer no one said anything.

“True, I didn’t really know anything about him,” Derek said, “and everything I knew was from my uncle, but when I go back to school, I’d gladly call Scott my friend.” He smiled. “And I didn’t have any before so it’ll be a nice thing to have at least one.”

“I know who he is,” Jackson reluctantly admitted. “He tried out for lacrosse last year.”

“I remember that too,” Boyd said.

“He wasn’t that bad, well until he started to whiz.”

“Asthma,” Scott clarified.

“Figured that when Danny ran over with your inhaler.”

“It was actually really scary,” Boyd added.

“Not a proud moment in my life.”

The group was silent for a few seconds.

“For a year Scott was my only friend and when my mom died I just cut him out of my life because it was easier to do that than accept that my mom passed.” Stiles looked at Scott. “I’m so sorry, dude.”

“It’s okay,” his smile widened as he patted Stiles’ knee.

“We should hang out after this is over,” Boyd proposed.

“Yeah,” Erica excitedly shouted hugging Scott’s shoulder, pulling him in, “we all should. And we should hang out at lunch too.”

“Count me in,” Allison smiled.

“Me too,” Stiles chuckled.

“Fuck it,” Jackson sighed, “I’m in too.” He then started to laugh causing some of the others to as well. Once he recovered he looked over at his ex-girlfriend. “What about you?”

She scoffed looking away from everyone. “I think you’re all morons,” she said seriously but then a smirk started to appear. “But I think you guys are the most real people I’ve ever met. I’d like to get to know you guys some more.”

“Like you’re hurting for friends,” Erica whispered.

“Erica,” Allison sweetly said, “I bet we’ll be the best of friends by the end of the month.”

“The only way I’d be friends with Lydia is if she gave me one of her dresses.”

“Okay,” Lydia agreed.

“What?”

“Which dress do you want? I’ve got a few. You can come over and choose for yourself.”

“Okay,” Erica looked at her in shock, then at Allison who had a satisfied smile on her face.

Lydia looked over at the two people who hadn’t said anything yet. Theo looked deeply disturbed by everyone’s kumbaya moment. He rolled his eyes ending on Lydia then blew her a kiss. Lydia grimaced and looked past him. “Isaac?” He was biting his lips staring directly at Scott. The group looked at him.

“Isaac, buddy?” Stiles tried.

Isaac was still staring, biting his lips harder.

“Isaac?” Scott asked which seemed to break him from his spell. “You okay there?”

“I—um…”

“You okay, Isaac?”

“I noticed you,” he practically whispered.

“What did he say?” Stiles asked.

Isaac took a large breath in. “I noticed you, Scott.” His voice was louder but not confident. “I’ve always noticed you.”

Scott smirked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Isaac blushed. He then looked at Erica and Boyd who seemed to anticipate something. With another deep breath, he continued. “I actually really like you.”

Ducking his head, Scott blushed himself. “Really?”

“Yeah, I just never got up the nerve to talk to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Scott McCall, and I’m just plain old Isaac Lahey.”

Lydia glanced over to Jackson who looked heartbroken. She squeezed his knee in sympathy. He gave a tight-lipped smile. Looking out she noticed Stiles looking at them. His eyes darted to her, then her hand still on Jackson’s knee, then at Jackson’s expression. Then his eyes widened as he looked at Isaac then Jackson again. Lydia smirked bringing a finger to her lips. Stiles nodded in understanding and looked back at the budding romance unfolding before them.

“I don’t think you’re plain,” Scott shyly smiled. “Or old.”

“Oh my God,” Theo groaned, successfully breaking the moment. “No one else is nauseated by this? Just me?”

“Shut up, Theo,” Stiles sneered. “If you’re so eager to talk why don’t you tell us why you’re here.”

“Why don’t you, Stilinski,” he snapped back.

“Just shut up you two,” Allison sighed. “I’ll go next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Allison


	9. Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the hardest chapter to write. Not that it deals with something dark or bad, but I just couldn't figure out what to write. I actually skipped this chapter and wrote the others and then finally came back when I figured it out. So hope you guys like it.

“So my mother died in a car accident,” Allison started. “A drunk driver crashed into her car while she was coming home from visiting some family.”

“You don’t really seem broken up about it,” Isaac observed.

She sighed. “It’s because I’m not really.” She replied slowly. Most of the group gave her a look of horror. “It’s not because I don’t care.” Allison wasn’t a monster. “I just wasn’t very close to my mom. I guess I’ve always been a daddy’s girl.”

“Why weren’t you close to your mother?” Scott asked.

“I guess it’s because she practically forced me to ‘follow in her footsteps’. So she signed me up for archery, and then after that was rock climbing, and then so many other things. I just wanted to try out for cheerleading back in middle school but instead, she sighed me up for all that other crap. She always said it was because I had to ‘join the family business’.”

“What’s the family business?”

Allison sighed again. It wasn’t a bad question, it was just something that she avoided because once she told people, they’d always treat her differently after learning. “My last name’s Agrent.” She waited for the immediate reaction that usually followed when people learned her last name. But nothing happened. The room was deathly quiet.

“As in Agrent Arms?” Stiles asked.

Allison nodded.

“Holy shit,” Erica gasped.

“Wow,” Theo smirked, “who knew we had American royalty in the room?”

Allison and Lydia simultaneously rolled their eyes.

“Holy shit,” Erica said louder.

“Please, don’t make a big deal out of it. Until a month ago I didn’t even know.”

“How’s that possible?” Boyd asked.

“I don’t know. I mean I guess I never realized it. But I think it mostly was my dad who hid that from me.” A question was clearly on most of their tongues. “He isn’t a part of the family business.”

“Why not?” Theo sneered. “Too good for the money?”

“Shut it, Raeken,” Jackson said. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“I don’t usually tell people.”

“Did you know?” He asked Lydia.

“Of course I did,” she answered easily. “I’ve known since we started hanging out. Also, it doesn’t take a genius to know what Ally’s last name is.”

“Maybe to you,” Stiles muttered.

“So why isn’t your dad apart of your family's business?” Scott asked getting them back on track.

“Well…”

***

Agrent Arms was one of the oldest weapons manufacturers in the United States. They had been founded in 1828 by Samuel Agrent and the only company that had been producing guns for longer than the Agrents’ had been Remington. Since the beginning, it had been a family business and when Samuel passed, it was passed down to the eldest Agrent child. And the tradition continued for hundreds of years. That was until Gerald Agrent took over from his own father and started to groom his own son to continue the legacy. But Christopher Agrent had no interest in taking over for his father. He didn’t even have any interest in guns or weapons of any kind. He wanted to be a history teacher and years later he achieved that dream teaching at the middle school. So with Chris out of the running for taking over the company, it fell to Gerald’s second child, Kate. And it seemed that Gerald had finally found a successor in his daughter until she turned 18, joined the army, and cut off all contact with her own father.

With no more direct heirs, Gerald had to look at his brother’s children to take over. But then the news of a grandchild caught his attention and he tried to get his hands on them instead of his nieces or nephews. For Victoria it was the best news to hear, she had been an active wildlife hunter since childhood, and for Chris, it was just an annoyance. The couple would often argue about that, eventually, Chris winning the final argument and almost cut Gerald out of their lives and the life of his granddaughter, Allison. So Gerald took a step back from them and played the role of loving grandfather to the little girl. But over time, he would speak to his son’s wife and lead her to make some crucial decisions about how to raise Allison.

So when Victoria passed, which was a complete tragedy, Gerald chose to take a more active role in raising Allison, continuing to train her to take over the company when he passed.

At first, Allison was ecstatic that her grandfather was visiting it was like every other time that he’d visit, but after a week of being there, Allison and her father knew he’d overstayed his welcome.

“Dad?” Allison said after dinner one night. Gerald had spent the meal criticizing his son for cooking the food and then critiquing everything he ate, and alternating between that and quizzing his granddaughter on business terms she had only learned about shortly after Gerald had arrived. “When’s grandpa leaving?”

He sighed as he took a glance to the living room, the TV was loud enough that Gerald couldn’t hear them then went back to washing the dishes. “That’s a very good question, Ally.”

It had been a week since the funeral and they were still getting calls from family that were too far to attend with condolences. Each one sounded hollow the further away the call came. But hearing the condolences in person from Gerald made them seem even worst.

“Eventually he’ll have to go back to work.”

“Can’t you tell him something? Like ‘go away’?”

“Ally,” her father warned.

“Dad,” she answered in the same tone. “He’s being rude.”

“Not a reason to be rude back. Listen, Ally, your grandfather is very traditional.”

“You mean rude.”

“Still not a good enough reason. We can stick it out for a little longer, and then we’ll go back to how it was before.”

“Just without Mom.”

Chris sighed again. “Just without Mom.” He finished up the dishes and whipped his hand dry. “You know, if you want to quit something it’s okay with me.”

“Nonsense,” Gerald said entering the kitchen. “What are you trying to teach her if she quits something.”

“Dad,” he tried but stopped by his father.

“You’re both are Agrents, we never quit. Even if something is too tough we never quit. That’s where I failed with you, Chris, I let you become a teacher instead of going into the business like you were destined to do.”

She was about to scoff but seeing her father’s guarded face stopped her.

“If she doesn’t want to do something, I’m not going to force her to do it.”

Gerald turned towards his son sharply. “Is that how I raised you to speak to your father?”

Squaring his shoulders, her dad spoke again. “Sorry, sir.” That was something that Allison had to get used to. Her dad never said ‘sir’, he was called that many times but didn’t say it himself. “Ally, don’t you have homework to do?”

“Nonsense,” Gerald repeated, “she can work on that later. Allison,” she was starting to hate how he said her name, “do you really want to quit anything?”

She looked at her dad and saw a defeated expression on his face. It was the first time she’d ever seen that on her father’s face.

“No…” she looked at her dad again and quickly added, “sir.”

“At least you did _something_ useful for your daughter’s future.” A grimace fell on both their faces. “What were the sports you’re in again?”

“Bow and arrow, knife throwing, and handgun training.” She answered politely.

***

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles asked.

Allison looked around the room to see the others who sported surprised or impressed expressions (Lydia was the only one who was impressed).

“What?”

“Do you really know how to do all that stuff?” Isaac asked.

“Yes,” she answered uncertainly.

“That’s strangely hot,” Theo offered even though it wasn’t wanted.

“I also know taekwondo, so I could rip your balls off, Theo.” Her tone was still sweet but had a dangerous edge to it.

Theo looked as if he was about to do something, but thought against it since they were sitting so close together.

“Can you continue?” Scott prompted trying not to smile.

***

“Very good,” Gerald excitedly said. “Now if only your father stuck with it.”

“Dad,” her father sounded tired. “Ally, go upstairs please.”

She nodded and left before Gerald could stop her. Before she could close her door, Allison could hear her grandfather yell at her dad.

***

“Erica?” Allison paused her story noticing something wrong.

Boyd turned to his girlfriend in concern. “You okay?”

Isaac was confused for a second, but quickly his eyes widened knowing what was happening. “Boyd,” Isaac started but stopped seeing Erica put her hands to her head.

“Erica,” Boyd tried again, “babe, what’s going on?”

She looked up, tears in her fearful eyes. She tried to speak but failed so she stopped and tried again that time saying only one word. “Fuck.”

Then, all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The meeting is interrupted


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Erica has a seizure. It's not 100% medically accurate since I've never had one and am not a medical professional. All I had was research to go on.

A simple partial seizure. That was what was happening. Or as Erica usually said: ‘another fucking seizure’. It started with a strange feeling too difficult to explain then moved to a feeling in her gut as if she was riding a rollercoaster, something she’d done once in her life, and the most telling symptoms was a tingling sensation that started in her right big toe and traveled up her leg. When that happens, it was too late to stop it, not like she could in normal situations, and she just had to ride it out.

The bad thing about having that kind of seizure was that it was usually followed by a larger and more severe one. Tonic-clonic seizure. The one where people fall on the ground and jerk like they’re being electrocuted, yeah that one. Erica tried to manage them as best as she could but that one snuck up on her. Fucking seizures.

***

It had been a while since Erica had had a seizure, she’d been managing her epilepsy with her medication and a change of diet, something she bitched and complained about. But it had been a while. So much so, that Boyd was unprepared.

So when Erica fell forward, he tried to grab for her but missed. Thankfully he wasn’t the only one who went for her. Scott moved forward, holding on to Erica, and gently led her to the ground. Boyd pushed Erica’s chair out of the way and kneeled by her. He was used to being prepared with the emergency kit Erica’s mother had given him in secret a year before that Boyd felt powerless.

“Do you have anything to put under her head?” Scott asked turning Erica on her side. Boyd looked at him in panic shaking his head. “Isaac, can you give me your jacket?” Quickly, Isaac unzipped the jacket and threw it towards them. Boyd caught it, folding it up and putting it under Erica’s head. Boyd put his hand on her shoulder to steady himself. “Not so tight,” Scott reprimanded.

“I know,” he snapped but took a calming breath. “I’m sorry, I kind of panicked.”

Scott nodded and looked at the group. “Lydia, go get my mom. She should still be at the front desk.”

With a nod, she left.

“I’ll go with her,” Stiles volunteered, running after her.

“Can one of you guys get her something to drink?” He said to the remaining.

It took a second but then Jackson snapped out of it. “Sure, I’ll get it. Allison, Theo come help me.”

Theo looked at him about to refuse but looked back at Erica and silently agreed.

“Isaac,” Derek said, “let’s…” he licked his lips. “Let’s get something.”

“Get some food if you can?” Boyd finally felt like he could figure out what to do. “A sandwich of some kind or some fruit.”

Isaac gave a nod himself and dragged Derek out closing the door behind them.

“Has she ever had a seizure before?” Scott’s eyes were hard and his face was serious.

“Yeah,” Boyd confirmed and comforted Erica by running his hand through her hair. Her fit was dying down. “It’s just been a while.”

“How long has this happened?”

“Since she was a kid. Can you help me and getting her in a sitting position?” Scott nodded and helped move her up, Boyd positioning her to lie on his chest. “How’d you know what to do, McCall?”

He shrugged. “My mom’s a nurse. I guess I just picked it up.”

“Well, good job.”

Scott smiled as the door opened again revealing Nurse McCall. Closely behind were the rest of the group. The nurse could see that the situation had been handled and gave a small smile.

“How long was the seizure?” She asked Boyd.

Scott answered instead. “It was only for about two minutes.”

His mother smiled and ruffled his hair. “My little doctor in training.” She then turned back to Boyd again. “When was the last time she had one?”

Before he was able to answer, Erica made a noise. He stroked her hair again. “It’s been a few months since her last one.”

“What’s going on?” Erica slurred out.

“Welcome back, Erica.” Nurse McCall kindly said.

Erica groaned. “Fucking seizures.” Her voice was still slurred but clearer than the first time.

“Good to know you still think that. Do you know what might have caused it this time?”

She sank further into Boyd’s chest. “It’s probably a combination of stress and…” She paused then looked at each of the women in the eyes. They knew what that meant but the boys looked at her in confusion.

“And?”

“Scott,” the three women said in varying ways. Lydia in anger, Allison in shock, and his mother in a loving yet sympathetic way.

“What? None of us guys get it.”

“Scott,” his mother repeated.

“No, Mel,” Erica said, “he had a chance.” She turned to him. “My Aunt Flo is about to pay a visit.”

Scott was confused for a moment, he kind of resembled a puppy even tilting his head, but then he figured out what was said and his face contorted in disgust.

“Ew…”

“Well, you did ask,” Stiles chuckled. Everyone did as well but the guys looked a little grossed out.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Nurse McCall asked.

“Fine, I guess. Don’t know why I’m wet though.” She leaned back and looked up at Boyd. “Did you let them throw water on me?”

“No,” Boyd said slowly then looked down when he could feel a little wetness as well.

Erica looked down and groaned again. “Fuck!”

“It’s okay, Erica,” Nurse McCall said, “we have a few extra pairs of pants for emergencies.”

“Or I have some leggings…” Allison started but then slowed down, “in my dad’s car. Sorry, Erica.”

“It’s okay, Ally, at least you offered.”

Lydia resented that comment so she moved forward and helped Erica up. “Melissa, can we get those pants and a pair of scissors?”

“Sure,” she replied skeptically. “Boyd would you like a pair as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Scott, you wanna grab a custodian to clean really fast?”

“Sure, mom.” He then rushed out of the room.

“The restrooms are down the hall so you two can change. I’ll be right back with those pants.” The nurse left leaving everyone else behind.

“Let’s get you changed,” Lydia said helping Erica passed the boys and down the hall. Allison followed not wanting to miss a moment.

“So we’re not going to talk about the fact that she pissed herself?” Theo asked, not caring if Erica could hear or not.

“Dude, really?” Stiles glared.

“Yeah,” Derek scoffed, “I’d like to see what would happen to you if you had a seizure.”

Boyd clenched his fists and jaw. Theo was just like that asshole who recorded Erica the year before while she had a seizure and put it up online. It took weeks to get it taken down, but by then the damage had been done and some people used it as a form of humiliation for Erica.

“Hey, Boyd?” Isaac asked. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said still glaring at Theo.

“In private?”

He looked at his best friend with a worried expression on his face. Nodding slowly, he followed Isaac down the hallway. Once they got to the restroom Boyd turned to his friend.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I just didn’t want you to get in trouble for punching Theo’s lights out.”

“Good call, ‘cause I might’ve.”

There was a knock on the door. Since he was closer, Isaac opened it.

“Hi, Mrs. McCall,” he said excitedly.

“Hi, can you give Boyd these pants?”

“Sure,” his voice was still excited. He returned a few moments later with a pair of light blue scrubs.

“You know, you’re not dating her son yet. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“Shut up,” Isaac laughed throwing the pants to Boyd. “Go change, you ass.”

Boyd laughed as he headed into one of the stalls.

***

In the women’s restroom, Erica hid in the first stall, willing the other two girls to leave. But from the little sounds of movement outside the stall, that wasn’t happening. Why’d that have to happen? Why’d she have to have a seizure? Couldn’t it have happened later or how about not at all? And with the restroom door opening, there was even more of an audience to her humiliation.

“Erica?” Melissa called. “I got you some pants. And the scissors you asked for Lydia.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McCall,” Lydia said.

“Well, as much as I want to stick around, I have to get back and start my rounds. I’ll be sure to check in with you later. Erica, if you have another seizure we’ll have to do some tests.”

Erica rolled her eyes. She might not have another seizure, but she was certainly getting a migraine. Realizing that Melissa might want a response she spoke. “Let’s hope I don’t.”

The sound of scissors cutting fabric could be heard. Erica looked at the closed door in confusion. What the hell was going on out there?

“Now I really want to stay. But alas I have to be an adult so I’ll see you girls later.” She then exited the room.

After a few more moments the only sound was the fabric being cut.

“Can I have the pants now?” Erica asked.

“Let Lydia finish up,” Allison said and then passed a bag over the stall. “Get out of your wet clothes while she finishes.”

“You’re not doing something stupid, right?”

Lydia scoffed. “Like I’d let anyone look like a fool in my presence.”

“Good to know,” Erica sarcastically mused. Without anything better to do, she took off her pants pausing when she realized she would have to take off her underwear as well. “Did Melissa bring underwear as well?”

“I don’t think so, sorry Erica.”

“I guess that’s fine, but can you get some paper towels so I can clean myself off?”

Instead of answering, the sound of the sink and some towels being pulled out and then wettened could be heard.

“Here you go,” Allison handed her the wad of wet paper towels over the stall again.

Erica quietly thanked her and started wiping off her legs, and further up having to take off her underwear to finish cleaning.

“So how long have you had epilepsy?” Lydia asked. The sound of cutting had stopped.

“Since I was a kid.”

“Was it from an infection?”

“Why do you care?” Erica snapped. “We’ve never talked before today and now you want to get to know me? Why?”

A pair of pants fell on top of the stall’s door. “I added an underlayer,” Lydia said moving away from the door. “It’s not going to be as comfortable as underwear but it’s better than nothing.”

Erica grabbed them and put them on quickly, opening the door when she was done. “Why are you being nice to me?” Before Lydia could answer, Erica looked in the mirror and saw herself and the modifications on her pants. “Holy shit! How’d you do this?” The pants had been cut to just above her calves and narrowed to show off her curves.

“Travel sewing kit,” Lydia answered with a smirk. “Never leave home without one.”

“I’d have to remember my phone for that to work.”

“Oh no,” Allison gasped, “is your phone okay?”

“I’d have to remember it in the first place,” Erica smirked.

Allison blushed. “Oh.”

Erica smiled but it fell when Lydia cleared her throat.

“To answer your question, Erica, I don’t have many friends. Other than Allison I don’t have any girlfriends. And getting to know you a bit more I realized you’re someone I’d like to hang out with.” Erica didn’t look impressed. “You know, I had this impression that you thought you were too good to be my friend.”

“That I was too good to be your friend?” Lydia nodded. “You’re joking, right? You’re Lydia Martin, the queen of Beacon Hill High.”

“You always had this air of being above it all.” She countered.

“Well, after that video of me having a seizure last year, I had to try and protect myself somehow.”

“I remember that,” Allison sympathized.

“Yeah, thankfully they disappeared quickly after coming out.”

Allison smirked at her best friend. “Got anything to say about that Lydia?”

“You’re the one who got them deleted?”

“No, that was Danny. But I’m the one who forced him to do it. No one should have to live with that in their life.”

Erica smiled. “You do have a soul.” Allison laughed and Lydia suppressed a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“You better not,” Lydia said as a threat, but it just came out empty.

“Ready to go back?” Allison asked.

Erica groaned. “I was hoping to just hang out here until the end of it.”

“That’ll be good, I wouldn’t have to continue my story.”

“Sorry about that.”

Allison chuckled. “No worries. Thanks for the distraction.”

“I’d actually like to hear Stiles tell his story,” Lydia said.

“Me too,” the other two said at the same time.

“Even though that _was_ a dick thing to do to Derek,” Erica reminded Lydia.

“It had to be said. And he seems better about it.”

“More like he’s better because of Stiles.”

“Right,” Allison then gushed. “And then Isaac and Scott.”

“Speaking of Isaac, I didn’t realize how bad his home life was.”

“Neither did us,” Erica sighed. “We thought the bruises were from work.”

“And to think that if Jackson grew a pair, _he’d_ be the one going on a date with Isaac.”

“Allison,” Lydia gasped.

“Wait, what?” Erica looked back and forth between the two girls.

“I’m not blind, Lydia. For a while the only thing he’d ever talk about was Isaac. It wasn’t really hard to figure that out.”

“Oh, man, Isaac’s going to explode when I tell him Jackson likes him too.”

“No, he won’t, because you’re not going to tell him. Jackson needs to do that.”

“Fine,” she sighed, “but I’m totally telling Boyd.”

The girls laughed.

“So, we heading back?” Allison asked.

“I suppose so,” Lydia answered as she grabbed the pair of scissors. “I’ll have to give these back to Melissa.”

“Or you could give them to Scott,” Erica said.

“Or maybe Isaac,” Allison chuckled.

With a laugh, the girls left the restroom and saw Boyd and Isaac waiting for them in the hallway.

“Looking good,” Boyd said with a smirk seeing how his girlfriend looked in the modified pants.

“Thanks,” she blushed.

“How’d your pants look like that?” Isaac asked.

“A very talented friend,” Erica answered as she gave Lydia a nod.

“So we’re heading back?” Boyd asked.

“Might as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Stiles


	11. Stiles

The room was quiet when the others left. It was starting to get awkward the longer the silence stretched on.

“So that happened,” Stiles said just so someone would say something.

Theo glared at him while Jackson scoffed.

“Why don’t you shut up, Stilinski,” he sneered.

“Why don’t you, Whittemore,” Derek growled back.

“Guys,” Stiles barked out, “just saying something since it was so quiet. Let’s not make anything of it.”

Before anyone could say anything, the door opened to Scott leading a janitor to clean the puddle. The janitor didn’t say anything while he mopped, and when he was finished he left without a backward glance. It was weird to Stiles that he would do that, but he probably had something more important to take care of.

The smell of the cleaner caused Stiles’ nose to twitch. He hated that smell; it was clean but there was an underlying hint of other smells that shouldn’t be there. It was almost like sickness and disease had a scent that the cleaner was trying to mask but it wasn’t doing a great job at it. Almost like those smells _wanted_ to stick around.

“I heard about your friend,” Scott said snapping Stiles back to the present.

“What?”

“Your friend?” He said slowly. “I assume the reason you’re here?”

“Oh,” of course. “Heather. Yeah.”

“Must’ve been hard not seeing her at school.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been back since it happened.” That grabbed the other boys’ attention. “My dad said to take as much time as I need to go back, and I’m planning to go back on Monday. I think he’s just scared that something else will happen to me and he’ll have to go to another crime scene.” A perplexed expression was on all their faces. “It’s not like it’s the first time he’s had to pull me away from a dead body.” Derek, Jackson, and Scott looked at him in horror. Theo, on the other hand, had a small smirk on his face that Stiles didn’t like. “I mean the first time _was_ my mom’s.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Stilinski?” Jackson gasped out.

“I was in the room when my mom died,” he said unsure of why they were mostly looking at him in horror.

“Wait,” Scott said, “why were you in the room when she passed? Didn’t a nurse take you away from there?”

“I don’t think they knew I was there. I’d been quiet the week before she passed so they probably didn’t realize.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Wait,” Derek remembered something, “didn’t your friend die in a car accident?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you in the car when it happened?”

He nodded. “We were coming back from a party.”

“I was at that party,” Jackson interjected.

Stiles couldn’t remember if that was right, he didn’t really remember who was at the party. It could’ve been true. “And I guess she fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree.”

“How’d you survive?” Scott asked.

“Seatbelt,” he answered simply. “And I was asleep too. The doctor who examined me after said that both were the reason I was still alive. If I wasn’t wearing the seatbelt, I could’ve been thrown from the car and if I was awake I probably would’ve tensed up and injured myself.”

Derek looked away, he was looking a little green, while Scott’s sad puppy eyes intensified.

“Was there blood?” Theo asked. The first thing he said in a while and that was what he said?

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Jackson shouted in disgust.

“It’s just a question,” he answered innocently.

“No, it wasn’t,” Derek said. “No one would _ever_ ask a question like that.”

“What is fucking wrong with you, Theo?” Jackson glared at him.

“Less than you.”

“Oh, really?” He moved forward, ready to strike Theo.

“Stop!” Scott shouted. “Jackson, step away before you do something stupid. And Theo, if you don’t have anything that can help, you are more than welcome to leave. That rule didn’t just apply to Lydia. The whole meeting you’ve been nothing but rude and difficult, and downright annoying. Now, you can either be helpful or you can leave.”

Theo looked at them, with an expression close to calculating. “I’ll play nice if you want.”

“Or you could just not talk,” Jackson encouraged.

“Jackson,” Derek and Stiles said at the same time.

“No, what I said is valid. And if he’s going to stay,” he walked over to Theo’s chair and moved it further from the group, “I think he shouldn’t be close to any of us.”

“I think that’s a little extreme,” Scott tried.

“I don’t think so. And we’re moving Allison and Lydia to be further from him as well.”

“Jackson.”

“What?” He asked turning to stare at the others. “I don’t want him to have a freak out while he’s telling us whatever he’s gonna and hurt one of them.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Stiles tried to reason.

“And what if it does?”

“I don’t care,” Theo said coolly taking a seat. “If it makes the pretty boy feel safe, I don’t care.”

The door opened to the returning group that stopped talking when they saw how tense Jackson was and how far Theo’s seat was from the others.

“What’s with the new seating arrangement?” Erica asked when no one said anything.

“You should ask pretty boy,” Theo sneered.

“It’s easier,” Jackson answered coldly.

“Let’s continue this,” Scott added.

The returning group looked at each other for a second and then went back to their chairs. Before either Allison or Lydia could sit down, Jackson got up and moved them down so he was the one next to Theo. He then moved Derek over so there was a boy-girl pattern. They didn’t say anything but did as told. Silently, Boyd did the same with Isaac, not knowing why but feeling like it was important to. Jackson nodded at him like it was all according to plan.

“So now that we’re all back,” Scott said when everyone was back in their seats, “Allison can you continue?”

“Oh,” she said not realizing they were going to just jump back in and completely ignore whatever was happening. “Well, let’s see, I was talking about my grandfather yelling at my dad?”

“You were just getting to that,” Lydia supplied.

“Right.” She inhaled trying to figure out how to go on. “Okay, so I just have to say this, my grandpa is an asshole.” The group looked at her in shock. “I know that’s a weird thing to say, but he is. He’s the reason I’m even here in the first place. My grandfather was the one who signed me up for this thing. And if it wasn’t for Lydia, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

“Why’d he do that?” Stiles asked.

“He thinks I’m depressed about my mother’s death. He thinks that’s the reason for my ‘rebellion’,” she finger-quoted the word, “not like I’ve wanted to quit all those things for years. I just wish he’d go back and leave us alone.” She sighed. “I also wish my dad would just grow a pair and throw the man out. If mom were alive this wouldn’t happen.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Maybe my dad just needs a strong-willed woman in his life again.”

“Maybe your dad could date my mom,” Erica jokingly said. “He sounds better than most of the guys she’s been bringing home lately.”

“That sounds like a plan. Then we’d be sisters.”

They both laughed.

“Shut up,” Stiles growled.

The group turned to him in shock.

Stiles was shaking with anger. How could someone ever let their parent date again? Was that a joke?

“Stiles?” He vaguely heard someone say.

Who would want their parent to willingly go out on a date when their mom is dead? And furthermore, what kind of man would even _think_ about dating after he lost his wife? What was going through that man’s head?

“Stiles,” the voice said again.

How could someone start a relationship knowing that the person they loved is gone, and not just gone, but dead? Isn’t there laws about that? He should know better being the Sheriff and everything. So what the hell was he thinking?

“Stiles!” Multiple voices called, but Stiles focused on one that followed up his shout with, “Breathe!” Derek was in front of him saying the word again like Stiles wasn’t. He was right? But if that was the case, why was it so hard to take a breath in? Oh, fuck! Not again. It couldn’t happen again. Not in front of others. “Breathe,” Derek’s voice was gentle but still had a command behind it. Eventually, he was able to. It wasn’t smooth but he was able to breathe in. “That’s great. Now breathe out slowly.” It was harder to do but Stiles was able to. “Let’s do it again. Breathe in with me.” They both did. “And now out.” The exhale was still a little shaky. “Alright, one more time.” Stiles inhaled deeply without any trouble and then exhaled just as fine. His cheeks started to heat up from the embarrassment. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Derek whispered. “I get them too.” Stiles had to blink away some tears that were threatening to fall. “You better now?” He nodded his head, not willing to say anything yet.

“What the hell was that about?” Theo asked. Derek rolled his eyes. From the energy in the room, everyone else glared at him. “What? It wasn’t rude, and I bet all of you wanted to know too.”

“My dad’s dating someone,” Stiles weakly said.

“Do you not like the person he started dating?” Scott asked.

“I like them just fine,” he then gave a humorless laugh, “I’d like him better if he wasn’t dating my dad.”

***

Losing a parent was never easy. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. But losing one was too many for Stiles who after overhearing a conversation between his dad and their doctor that the sheriff needed to cut down on red meat, Stiles took that to heart and forced his dad to eat right and exercise from time to time. (They were still working on that exercising thing but at least he wasn’t just eating fast food so that was a good thing.) So to make sure the sheriff was eating right, Stiles had learned to cook, something that wasn’t as hard as others had said it would be, and took it upon himself to be in charge of all the meals. His favorite thing was cooking lunch and bringing his dad the healthy choice instead of the junk he most likely would’ve gotten if left to his own devices.

“Afternoon Stiles,” Deputy Mills said when he entered the station. He’d been there so often every deputy knew Stiles, and if they didn’t it only took a few days before they did. “You’re here earlier than normal.”

“Yeah, I know. But I wanted to ask my dad something before I gave him his lunch.”

“Trying to bribe him?”

“Something like that,” Stiles beamed. “He in his office?”

“Yes, and he should be between meetings so you caught him in the perfect time.”

“Okay, thanks, Judith.” He waved as he walked towards his dad’s office waving and saying hi to all the deputies along the way.

“Hey, daddio, ready for… Oh, hi there,” he switched what he was about to say when he saw someone new sitting in his usual seat across from his dad.

“Stiles,” his dad sighed, “we talked about knocking before barging in here.”

“I didn’t barge in here. Judith said you were between meetings.”

“You mean Deputy Mills.”

“Dad, she’s babysat me, I think we’re at the point that using each other’s first name is appropriate.”

“It’s not,” the sheriff tried to argue.

“She changed my diaper, Dad, so yes it is.”

“Stiles,” he sighed again, gesturing to the other person in the room who looked incredibly uncomfortable on being there.

“Oh, man, sorry. Kind of forgot we weren’t alone.” Stiles then waited for the person to introduce himself but seeing that the man wasn’t going to, he took the initiative and started it himself. “I’m Stiles, by the way. Sheriff Stilinski’s one and only son.”

“Thank God,” his dad muttered earning a glare.

After a few moments, the guy realized he should probably say something. “Jordan. Parrish.”

“Nice to meet you, Jordan.” He then looked at his dad to further explain why Jordan was there.

With a suffering sigh, the sheriff did. “Jordan had applied for one of the new deputy positions. This is his interview.”

“That’s great,” Stiles said not realizing his dad was trying to tell him something. “It’s been a while since there’ve been new deputies here. And it’s like the easiest job ever.” The sheriff glared at his son. “Don’t give me that look, Dad. Nothing happens here. Like at all. So you’ll probably be pretty bored.”

“Stiles,” his dad said in a way that Stiles knew if he didn’t stop talking he’d be in a lot of trouble. “Can you go to the breakroom so I can finish the interview?”

“Oh,” he’d finally got it. “Yeah, of course. I have your lunch when you’re done and sorry again, Jordan.” He turned to leave but then turned back. “And welcome to the team.”

Jordan looked confused and his dad shook his head in disapproval, but the smirk on his face couldn’t hide his true feelings.

A week later and Stiles was at the station yet again with his dad’s lunch when he saw Jordan again, that time in a uniform sitting at a desk doing some paperwork. Being the unofficial official welcome party, Stiles went over and talked to Jordan for a bit asking how he was liking the job and getting to know the newest deputy at the station. At first, Jordan didn’t look as if he knew how to respond to all of Stiles’ questions, but over time he just went with it and seemed to relax around him. Their conversation was cut short when the sheriff warned him of bothering the deputies. Stiles was never a bother but he said bye to Jordan and had lunch with his dad, talking about whatever came to his mind, even if it didn’t make any sense.

A few months later, he saw Jordan somewhere he hadn’t in the past: in their kitchen. He was holding a mug tightly in his hands and looked a little shaken.

“Hi Jordan,” he said trying to not spook the deputy. It didn’t really work since Jordan still jumped a bit. “You doing okay?”

Before he got a chance to answer, the sheriff came back into the kitchen looking very comfortable in sweats and an old Sheriff Department t-shirt. “He saw his first body today.”

“Aw, man, a car accident?”

The sheriff looked as if he was about to remind his son about asking about cases but then thought against it. “Do you know Tara Raeken?”

“Yeah, she’s a senior at school. Part of the basketball team and her brother’s in a few of my classes. Are you saying she died in a car accident?”

Jordan just shook his head looking into the mug as if that would answer something. Stiles looked at his dad in concern.

“She was murdered,” he said as gently as that statement could allow.

Stiles gasped. Nothing like that had ever happened in Beacon Hills.

“Don’t tell anyone about that,” his dad continued.

“Did you catch whoever did it?”

“No,” Jordan whispered.

The sheriff put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Stiles, can you get the guest room ready? Jordan’s going to be spending some time here since he doesn’t have anyone he can stay with and I don’t want him to be alone at the moment.”

“Of course,” he answered. After seeing their first body, it was always recommended that the deputy took a few days off to come to terms with what they saw and really contemplate if they wanted to continue to be a deputy. It was something his dad had started because sometimes a deputy realized after seeing their first dead body that they just weren’t cut out for the job and quit. It wasn’t their fault, most people wouldn’t be able to deal with that, but it just meant that they couldn’t be a part of the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department.

That was also the first time Stiles realized something was different about Jordan Parrish and his dad. Before he left, he saw his dad’s comforting hand slide down his deputy's arm, still in comfort but with something close to intimate mixed in as well. Stiles didn’t think too much about it, just hurrying away to set up the guest room for a deputy that had just witnessed his first dead body while on duty.

Luckily, Jordan didn’t quit, he went back to work, almost like it became his life’s mission to figure out what happened to Tara Raeken. But the strange thing was that he didn’t go home when he went back to work. He stayed with the Stilinski’s and it didn’t look like he was ever going to leave. Which wasn’t a bad thing in Stiles’ eyes. With Jordan there, he finally had someone to get his dad to eat better with. They could double team the sheriff on what he ate. And with Jordan at the station, Stiles now had someone who could make sure his dad didn’t sneak anything bad while he wasn’t there. It was a win-win situation.

Until it felt like Deputy Parrish had overstayed his welcome. Especially with how close the deputy and his dad were getting the longer Deputy Parrish stayed with them. It was little touches at first but those quickly grew to loving looks. Stiles didn’t like that at all.

“Dad?” Stiles started one day while they were having lunch together, one of the only times that it seemed like the deputy wasn’t around. “When is Deputy Parrish going back to his place?”

“Don’t you mean ‘Jordan’?” He tried to be lighthearted but Stiles wasn’t having it.

“No, because he never wiped my ass.”

“Stiles,” that parental warning hadn’t been used in a while. “What has gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing, I just want to know why Parrish is going to get out of our house and go back to his own place, _Dad_.”

Sheriff Stilinski looked at his son in shock. Stiles was a happy-go-lucky kind of person and hadn’t been that angry in years. Not since his mom had died.

“I don’t know,” he answered, trying to figure out what was wrong with his child.

Stiles didn’t like that answer so later on that night he asked Deputy Parrish.

“I don’t know, Stiles,” he said while he was washing to dishes after dinner. “I don’t think John minds—”

“Sheriff Stilinski,” he growled out. “You know, your _boss._ ”

Jordan turned around hearing the anger in Stiles’ voice. Since he’d been living there, he’d never heard the boy ever get angry. “Stiles,” he gently said.

“When are you leaving, _Deputy Parrish_?”

Jordan’s eyes widened at the formal moniker.

“Stiles,” the sheriff warned, making himself known. “Jordan, what’s going on?” Jordan looked at Stiles and then chanced a look at John. It looked like he wasn’t going to say anything, much to Stiles’ joy. “Jordan, can you give us a minute, please?” Quickly, he left not giving a backward glance. “What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles?”

“What is wrong with you, Dad? You’re a married man.”

“Was,” he said quietly. That stopped Stiles in his rant. “Stiles, your mother has been gone for seven years…”

“Eight,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Last week was eight years.” His dad thought about it and realized he was right. Tears started to fell Stiles’ eyes. “You forgot about it, didn’t you?”

“Stiles,” he tried to comfort his son, but Stiles left before he could take a step.

Stiles refused to cry in front of his dad. If he couldn’t remember when his own wife died, why should Stiles show any emotion to that man? In the confide of his room, Stiles grabbed his phone for some kind of distraction, something to get his mind off of his dad and… Thankfully, there was a text from his only friend, Heather, telling him about a party and wanting to go. Normally, he’d say no, but he needed to get out. So, he texted her to pick him up.

***

“If it wasn’t for Parrish,” Stiles whispered, “Heather wouldn’t have died.”

“Or maybe you wouldn’t have been in the car when she crashed, “Derek remarked. He had switched seats with Lydia so he was sitting next to Stiles again.

“So we’re not really gonna talk about the fact that Sheriff Stilinski’s gay?” Theo chuckled.

“Bi, you asshole,” Stiles sneered and then thought about it. “Or probably pan. And it doesn’t matter. The point is still that my dad started dating someone. And he doesn’t have the guts to tell me that he _is_ dating. Why would he hide that from me?”

“I know what you mean,” Erica said causing everyone to look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Erica


	12. Erica

Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She just had a seizure that pulled focus just moments before, and then she had to open her mouth and pull focus again?

“I mean, not exactly, but the dead parent thing.” _Really, Erica, that’s what you’re gonna say? The dead parent thing?_ “I mean, my dad passed when I was 7, so I get the mourning thing.”

“I was 8,” Stiles said quietly, wiping a tear away.

“My dad was a foreman at a construction company. He had a seizure while at work and fell off a scaffolding that was about four stories up. It was about the time that I had my first seizure. So not a great time all around.”

“Your mom is dating?” He asked still as quiet as before.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re letting her?” Erica didn’t understand that question. “Didn’t your mom love your dad?”

Erica smirked. “I know she did, Stiles. But at the end of the day, my dad’s the one who’s dead, not my mom. I don’t want her to be alone when I finally leave to go to college, or whatever I plan to do later on. Do you want your dad to be alone?” Stiles didn’t answer. “That’s why I set up her dating profile.”

“Wait, what?” Allison gasped. Lydia was smirking at her.

“Yeah, it was shockingly easy to do. I knew my mom’s email address and I had tons of pictures of her on my phone. And the profile itself was easy to fill out since I knew what she would be looking for. And if I didn’t know, I’d just ask.”

“So all those dates your mom has been on lately was because of you?” Boyd asked.

She just smiled.

“You’re so weird, Erica,” Isaac chuckled.

“Hey, I didn’t do it without her knowing. Well, mostly. She did say she was thinking of dating again so I thought I’d help. And when she got her first message I handed the account to her.”

“How’d she take it?” Allison asked.

“Angry at first, and then impressed that I did it without her figuring out what I was doing. And after each date, she now has a funny story to tell at parties, so it’s a win.”

“For who?” Jackson was incredibly confused.

She smiled again.

***

“I said I was _thinking_ about getting back into dating,” Erica’s mom shouted.

“Yeah, but—”

“Is that why you were asking all those weird questions?”

“Yeah, but Mom—”

“Here I thought you wanted to get to know me better and in actuality, you were setting up a dating profile for your own mother.”

“Mom,” Erica sighed.

“And what kind of dating site would even allow this to happen?”

“MOM!”

“What?”

Erica rolled her eyes. “The only reason I’m telling you this now is that you have messages.”

“I do?” Her anger was forgotten.

“Yeah, see.” She showed her mom her phone. “You have five messages.”

“There are five people who want to date me and know that I have a daughter.” She then looked at Erica. “They do _know_ I have a daughter, right?”

“Of course. I’m a part of the packaged deal.”

“Have you read any of the messages?”

“No, I wanted you to read them.” Erica also knew that some people used dating sites for casual hookups and she didn’t need to see anything she didn’t need to from the dirty pervs in town.

“Okay,” her mother sighed. “Let’s see who we have.” She opened the first one. “This guy seems nice, and he doesn’t mind that I have a kid,” then she read on, “and now he sounds a little psychotic,” a little more, “and I’m just gonna delete that one.”

“Good choice, Mom,” Erica had been reading over her mother’s shoulder and that guy _was_ crazy. He’d find someone soon enough.

“Okay, let’s try another one.” Opening the next one, she read silently and then finally said, “He sounds like a pedophile so I’m gonna report him and delete that one too.” Erica smiled and went to go get something to drink, it was going to take a while. “And here’s a dick pic, great.” Thankfully, Erica had left before that. She was walking back into the room when she heard her mom again. “Okay, this guy is actually kind of nice. He’s not crazy, creepy, and he doesn’t sound like a pedophile.”

 _Not much of a dating pool in Beacon Hills, is there?_ “So you gonna go on a date with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mom,” she moved so she could look her mom in her face, “it’s been nine years, I think it’s time to find someone else to fall in love with.”

Her mom smiled. “When did you get so smart?”

“Just how you raised me,” Erica smiled. “So are you gonna go on a date with this guy?”

“I think so.”

The next Friday, she did go on that date. Erica went out herself and hung out with Boyd. Isaac was supposed to be there as well, but he had to cancel last minute. But she didn’t mind since she really liked hanging out with Boyd. Later that night, her mom came back from her date, and from the look on her face, it didn’t go well.

“What happened?” Erica asked worried that something bad happened.

“Nothing. And I truly mean nothing. That was the most boring man I’ve ever met in my life.”

“So a no for a second date?”

“Unless I ever need to fall asleep, it’s gonna be a no.”

“Well, is there another guy you were looking at?”

“Let’s hold off on another date for a bit. No reason to be desperate.”

And so, a month later, Erica’s mom went out on another date, while Erica was going to be going on her first with Boyd. Boyd had picked her up and took her to a nice restaurant. Unfortunately, it was the same restaurant that her mom was having her own date at. Erica could see her mom but not the other way around, so she could spy on how her mom’s date was. At one point in the evening, she watched her mom stand up and throw her drink in the guy's face before stomping away.

“Was that your mom?” Boyd asked after everyone had turned to the commotion.

Instead of answering, Erica ran out to catch up with her mom.

“Mom!” She had to shout just to get her to slow down.

“What are you doing here?”

“The more important question is, what happened in there?”

“Of course you saw,” she sighed. “That guy was a jerk. Like a grade-A asshole. First, he complained about the service, and then he starting making fun of our waiter. He then said that he usually didn’t date women that have kids, but I was ‘hot enough’ so I got a pass. What a load of shit is that?” Once she was finished with her rant, she then went back to her first question. “What are you doing here? Did you come to spy on me?”

“No, it just worked out that way. I’m actually…” she started to blush, “…on my own date.”

Her mom immediately started to gush. “Oh my, God. That’s great, Erica. Who’s it with? Have I met him before? Oh no. Am I ruining it for you?”

“No, it should be fine. And it’s with Boyd.”

“So he finally asked you out? Or did you ask him?”

“He asked me.”

“Well, don’t let my crappy date ruin yours. I’ll talk to you when you get home and we can talk all about it later.” She then hugged her daughter in a tight squeeze. “Have fun. Just not too much. And I expect you home at 9.”

Begrudgingly, Erica agreed and went back inside to finish her date. Which was the best thing ever. And later that night, she told her mom just that.

A few months passed from that date to the next. At that time Isaac’s father had passed and he was moved to a foster family, and then another one after both Erica and Boyd complained about how Isaac was being treated. Hopefully, the new one would be better.

“So he’s coming here to pick you up?” Erica asked from outside the bathroom door.

“Yes,” she could barely hear her mom’s reply.

“So what’s he like?”

The door opened revealing her mom with a towel wrapped on her head and already wearing a new dress, it was black and tight in the right places. “He’s a really nice guy. And I actually mean it this time. I actually met him at the last parent-teacher conference.”

“Like another parent?” There were a few students Erica knew who had single dads so it wasn’t too out of the realm of possibilities.

“No, he’s a teacher.” They went to her mom’s bedroom so she could finish getting ready.

“It’s not Coach, right?” There were a few single teachers but that one was who came to mind the quickest.

She laughed. “No, but he did ask me out too. But that man is weird. And I really don’t want to know how weird he is.” There were a few others that came to mind, but she was interrupted when the doorbell rang. “Can you open the door for Adrian?”

Adrian? Who the hell was that? Not really worrying about that, Erica went to the door to see who this date was. But when she opened it, she immediately slammed it shut again.

No. No. No. There must be a mistake. That man could _not_ possibly be dating her mom, right?

“Was that Adrian?” Her mom asked but could see the panic in her daughter's eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s Adrian’s last name?”

“Harris, why?”

“Mom,” Erica whined, “you can’t date Mr. Harris. He’s like the meanest teacher at school.”

“Erica,” she sighed. “I’m going on a date with a really nice guy and I don’t care if you think he’s a mean teacher all because you’re failing his class. We’ll talk about that after I get back.”

“But, Mom, he’s a jerk to everyone. Even Scott doesn’t like the guy and Scott likes everyone.”

“Erica, I’m going on this date, and nothing is gonna stop me.” She then reached for the handle and pulled the door open. “Nice to see you again, Adrian.”

“And you too, Ariel.” He then looked past her and saw Erica. “Hope you’re prepared for the next test, Erica.”

Erica looked at her mom one last time, silently pleading with her not to go on that date. But she went anyway. And went on three other dates with him as well.

***

“Thankfully, they did eventually break up,” Erica said like it was the best thing in the world.

“Wow,” Stiles said, “I might hate my dad dating someone, but at least it wasn’t Mr. Harris.”

“Yeah, at least it wasn’t.” Erica laughed.

“And I guess that just shows,” Boyd said, “it could always be worse.”

The group started to laugh.

When the laugher died down, Scott stood up. “I think that’s a great way to end this, so—”

“What about me?” Theo asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Theo


	13. Theo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, a murder is talked about and described. If you don't want to read that you can skip it between the page breaks (***).

“I’m sorry?” Scott asked at the same moment Jackson sneered “Who cares?”

“I never said my story,” Theo smiled.

Stiles shivered.

“You okay?” Derek whisper asked.

He nodded even though he didn’t feel okay. Something about that smile unnerved him. But why?

“Again, who cares?” Jackson said.

“Jackson,” Scott warned. “I didn’t even realize. Sorry, Theo. Would you like to tell your story?”

That unnerving feeling returned when Theo’s smile grew. He opened his mouth to begin when a loud ringing sounded. Theo’s brows furrowed at the sound. Everyone else in the room looked around trying to find where the sound was coming from. Eventually, they all looked at Stiles realizing that the noise was coming from him. He looked down and could feel the slight vibration from his phone.

“Oh, shit,” he said jumping up and pulling out his cell to see who was calling. It was his dad. “Sorry,” he said as he moved towards the door and answered the call.

“Hey kiddo,” his dad said before Stiles was able to say anything. “just calling to let you know we’re on the way. Hope you had a good time.”

“Yeah,” he said distractedly as he looked at Theo.

“That’s great to hear,” he said not noticing his son’s voice. Stiles rolled his eyes and turned away from the group. “Hopefully you were able to talk about what happened.”

“Something like that,” he answered truthfully. He might’ve not talked about Heather extensively, or even the car crash, but she wasn’t what was really bothering her. He’d miss her for as long as he lived, but her death wasn’t as huge a blow as he originally thought it was. Did that make him a bad person?

No, because there were _really_ bad people in the world.

That thought reminded Stiles of something his dad had taught him years ago, even before his mom had passed. If he was ever in a situation that he needed his dad to come and get him, or rescue him if need be, all he had to do was cough twice. He’d never used it in his life but, hopefully, his dad remembered.

“Listen, Dad, I have to get back to the meeting,” he then coughed twice, “I love you.”

There was a short pause before the Sheriff responded. “Don’t hang up and whatever you do just keep them talking. Make sure no one tries to be a hero.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit,” Stiles said even though he wanted to give a sigh of relief. He moved like he hung up but just turned off the screen.

Maybe nothing was wrong and that uneasy feeling was just that, a feeling. But at that point, anything was possible.

“Sorry,” he said when he got back to his seat, “I thought I put it on silent.”

“That’s okay,” Scott said and then turned to Theo, “now, Theo, if you’d like to start.”

***

“Tara and I had always been close,” _that had been true when we were kids, but the older we got, the further we drifted apart,_ “we did everything together. Except for basketball, that was always her thing.” _My thing was done in private._ “One of the things we loved to do was to walk in the forest just past our house and talk for hours.” _Lie number one. She was always terrified of the woods. It was because it was dark and she always hated the dark._ “It was a few months ago,” _It’s been exactly five months, two weeks and three days,_ “when my sister died. Our parents went out to dinner for our father’s business.” _The perfect time to do what I’d been planning for months._ “We were taking our usual walk in the woods,” _it was shockingly easy to ‘persuade’ her to come out. I told her that there was no reason to be afraid of the forest. She said that there were. When I pressed her about it, she admitted something that made me so happy: my older sister was afraid of me._ “I remember I’d forgotten something,” _Lie number 2._ _I didn’t forget a damn thing_ , “and told her to wait for me while I ran back home to get it.” _It was darker than either of us realized when we went out. That was fine for me since I was used to it. I’d become proficient in seeing and hearing every little thing while in the dark. It came in handy when I hunted the small animals I started with. But it was even darker than that. So we had to use our phone’s flashlights to continue._ “I wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes.” _There was a clearing that I had found years before. It was far enough away that I wouldn’t be disturbed but close enough that it was easily found. She didn’t notice anything until it was too late._ “It looked like she was stabbed.” _The knife didn’t go in like it had for the rabbit or even that dog. There was even more muscle than I knew about. But it still brought her down to her knees. I had to stab her again but she did something none of the animals had done before, she pushed me away. I wasn’t prepared for that and fell backward. She tried to crawl away. She tried to escape. I just couldn’t have that._ “I overheard a deputy tell my parents that it looked as if she tried to defend herself.” _She punched, kicked, and even scratched. Anything she could do to get away. But that wasn’t gonna happen. With a final scream and the slice of the blade, it was over. At the end of the day, Tara was just like everything else I had killed, an animal._ “If only I was faster, or hadn’t forgotten whatever I forgot in the first place.” _There was so much blood, the warmth from it wasn’t different, but just how much came out was. I had to run to the creek and wash off all the blood and change my clothes. I kept my old clothes there until I was able to get them and burn them near the creek so I could wash the ashes away with the water._ “I keep having nightmares about seeing her like that.” _Lie number three. She was the first, but she didn’t matter. She never did. That animal was put on this Earth to be my first plaything, and nothing more._

“You’re lying.”

***

There was a dark flash that Isaac recognized in Theo’s eyes. He usually saw it whenever his father had been drinking and was about to do something to him. It could’ve been something as simple as a threat, but that darkness would always get into his father’s eyes before he did it. Isaac sometimes wondered if it was there when he died.

“What?” Theo was trying not to sneer but it was still there.

“You’re lying,” he repeated. “That’s not what happened.”

“Why do you…” The innocence that he tried to inject had no effect. The illusion was shattered.

“What was her name?” The question threw Theo. He opened his mouth to answer, but Isaac stopped him. “What do you call her in your head?”

Theo looked down. For a split second, it looked as if he was remorseful, but that quickly left when he slowly looked up, the darkness back and even more intense than before. “Animal,” he said. The razor-like smile that grew sharper as it got bigger caused Isaac to shutter, but he repressed it knowing he had to be strong. He’d been weak far too long, but he wouldn’t be any longer.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Jackson shouted as he sprang from his seat.

Isaac and Scott called his name out of warning, but it was too late. Before he could reach Theo, he was spun around and could feel the cold metal against his throat. Derek, Scott, and Boyd jumped out of their own seats to protect whoever they were near. Jackson whimpered a little when the metal dug in a bit.

“It’s funny,” Theo smirked as he looked down at the boy in his hands, “for everything you try to project onto the world, at the end of the end of the day, you’re just a scared little boy,” he drew closer and whispered into Jackson’s ear, “and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

Jackson whimpered again.

“You’re wrong,” Stiles said.

Theo’s eyes went to him and kept his tight grasp on his weapon and his victim. “Oh, and you have something to say? Haven’t you talked enough?”

“Maybe I haven’t,” he said coolly. There was a slight quiver in his voice but he pushed through it. “You know, I read the police report from your sister’s case.”

“That’s…” Lydia started but from the look Stiles shot her, she changed course. “impressive. How’d you hack those files?”

“Hack? My dad has trouble with PowerPoint. Everything is paper still.”

“Not really wise.”

“I know right. But anyway, there’s something that bothered Parrish about the case.”

He paused, prompting Theo to speak again.

“And what was that?” He fell for it, hook line and sucker.

“In your recap of the story, you said you got back to her and she was dead.”

“And?”

“Why didn’t you ever mention her scream? A neighbor said she heard a scream and called the police because of it. But if you were already on your way back, why didn’t you hear it?”

“Maybe he did,” Erica said, pulling Theo’s focus to her.

“Maybe he was the one to cause it,” Boyd noticed Allison digging in Lydia’s purse.

“I am.” He grinned. “I’m the one who killed her. She was the first of four others. One of them was the man who killed your sister, Boyd.” Boyd stiffened. “He bragged about killing a little girl like that’s anything to be proud of. I slashed his throat like all the others. He wasn’t a killer; he was just another victim waiting to meet me. So don’t worry, you don’t have to worry about him ever again. But none of that matters. Who’ll believe a group of fucked up kids.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Stiles smirked holding up his phone. “I never ended my call with my dad. You know, the sheriff.”

“Like that’ll stop me? I’ll just kill each and every one of you before he gets here.” He tightened his grip on Jackson. “Starting with this fucker right here. Any last words?”

“Yeah,” Allison shouted instead, “lookout.” She then threw the scissors Lydia still had in her purse, hoping it would cause Theo to loosen his grip on her friend.

It worked better than she thought when he not only did that but when he turned to dodge the scissors they stabbed into his shoulder. Screaming in pain, Theo dropped his own weapon to remove the one sticking out of him. Not wanting to waste a moment, Boyd ran towards Theo and tackled him to the ground. Derek and Scott rushed forward and grabbed Theo’s arms, helping to pin them behind his back. Scott had the easier job since he had the arm with the scissors stuck, but Derek didn’t back off until he had restrained his wrists together. Lydia grabbed her purse and unhooked the strap and throw it to the boys wrestling Theo. They tied his wrists and hands together and Derek helped Boyd keeping the struggling boy down by sitting on his back. Erica saw how close the knife was to them and rushed forward and knocked it out of the way. Just then, the door slammed open to reveal Sheriff Stilinski, Deputy Parrish, and Nurse McCall followed by a few other deputies that had their guns drawn. They stood there in silence looking at the scene before them.

“You get all that Dad?” Stiles said holding up his phone.

The sheriff smiled in relief and held up his own. “Every word.”

He smiled. “How’s it feel to solve your first murder, Jordan?”

Parrish was shocked to hear his name but smiled as well. “Didn’t do it alone.” He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt and approached the group. “Theo Raeken, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Epilogue


	14. Epilogue:Peter

_ Six Months Later _

“Peter, can you drive a little faster?” Derek was in the far back of the SUV so he had to practically shout to be heard.

“Yeah,” Cora playfully mocked her brother, “Derek wants to see his _boyfriend_.” She even made obnoxious kissing noises knowing she was too far for Derek to hit her.

“Shut up, Cora,” he returned but the blush reaching his ears told everyone exactly what was going on.

“Why, Der-bear,” Laura joined in, putting her brother into a headlock in the back, “isn’t that what Stiles is?” He quickly shoved her back.

“Girls, don’t tease your brother,” Hazel told them but there was a slight chuckle in her voice that broke the illusion of any real scolding.

Peter looked into the rearview mirror right as Cora started to tickle the twins to add salt into the wounds. He knew he had to intervene but he loved seeing Derek share so much emotion. Even before Talia’s death, Derek had been an extremely moody and quiet teen so it was refreshing to see the traditional Hale smartass-ness come back out. He smirked before quieting the car.

“Okay everyone, that’s enough. Derek, if you wanted us to get there earlier you shouldn’t have spent so long getting dressed for your date.” He couldn’t help himself with joining on in the fun.

Derek started sputtering trying to get something out causing everyone else to laugh. Rita and Channer were probably still laughing from being tickled but it still was everyone else.

“Well, if Laura didn’t hog the bathroom I might’ve been able to be done faster.” He tried when he was able to spit something out.

“I did no such thing,” Laura feigned innocence. She reached over trying to tickle her own brother. “You’re just nervous because you’ll be meeting Stiles dads for the first time.”

Peter scoffed at that. After that last group meeting, and it was the last since the hospital thought it was a liability to keep a group around that had a serial killer in it, Derek and all the teens from the group had to be interviewed by the sheriff and his deputy about what happened. They even had to testify in court and had successfully put Theo away for a very long time. So Derek had met the sheriff before, but it would be the first time he’d meet the man as Stiles’ dad. And Deputy Parrish wouldn’t be the charismatic officer that helped the group before testifying but Stiles’ other dad who was fiercely protective of the boy. Derek was screwed.

Looking in the mirror again, he could tell that Derek was jonesing for a cigarette a habit that rarely popped up only if Derek was stressed out. And at that moment he was.

“Derek,” Peter said breaking through his nephew’s stress, “you’ve already met his dads so you’ll be fine. And if all else, you’ll have your friends there to back you up.”

Looking at his uncle, Derek gave a reassuring smile and mouthed his thanks.

“Looks like we’re the last to arrive,” Hazel remarked seeing all the cars surrounding the Stilinski residence.

“Hopefully we’ll be able to find parking,” Peter looked at the mirror again and saw Derek’s face fall. He laughed. “I’m kidding there’s still plenty of places.”

Derek glared, proving that that angry face would never go away.

When they finally parked and got out of the car, Derek practically ran to the front door. The twins ran after him thinking it was a game of tag he was playing. Cora and Malia rolled their eyes, being the typical pre-teens that they were.

“Is he gonna be like that all day?” Malia asked in her newly minted bored voice. Peter wondered if that was how she was planning to talk all through her teens but doubted it since she was still a goof most of the time as well.

“Well, cuz,” Laura threw her arms around her cousin and sister at the same time bringing them towards her, “it’s only the day, but the blackmail is worth a lifetime.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to miss him making a fool out of himself would you?” Peter asked.

With a laugh, Laura dragged the two girls still under her arms towards the door.

“Peter,” Hazel reprimanded, “don’t encourage them.”

“I think some mischief is good to get them to get back to normal.”

“Their new normal?”

“It’s better than nothing,” he reasoned. “Now, let's see how badly we can embarrass my unsuspecting nephew.” Hazel chuckled as she playfully pushed her husband while making sure the pie she had baked was still firmly in her hands.

The pair walked to where the kids were just standing there, looking at Derek who was staring at the door as if that was someone was going to answer just because he was in front of the thing. Peter was about to say something when Channer came up to them and loudly said: “I think Derek forgot how to knock.”

Cora dramatically sighed and ran up to the door and knocked frantically then ran back to Laura’s side. Derek was completely confused by what just happened but hearing some shout that they got the door pulled him back to focus on the door, which opened seconds later to reveal Stiles.

“Hi,” he said to only Derek.

“Hi,” Derek repeated, his cheeks and ears turning red.

Someone cleared their throat from behind Stiles.

“Do you want to introduce our guests, Stiles?” Jordan was amused seeing what was happening on the porch.

“Oh!” Stiles came back and blushed himself. “This is Derek…and his family?” He continued awkwardly since he never officially met any of Derek’s family before only saw them in passing. Stiles looked at Derek trying to prompt him to continue with the introductions.

Eventually, he realized and introduced his family, starting with Peter and ending with his youngest cousins. After the introductions were made, Rita tugged on Jordan’s pants leg.

“Are you Stiles’ daddy?”

Jordan looked nervous about answering that question but Stiles stepped in and took over.

“No,” he said kneeling down to her level, “he’s my pops.” With wide eyes, Jordan stared at Stiles, a watery smile appearing on his face. Stiles then stood back up. “Come on,” he told the group, but mostly Derek, “everyone’s already in the backyard.” He then grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him into the house.

“I brought a pie for dessert,” Hazel said to Jordan as the kids followed the pair in.

“Dad— “Stiles started but Jordan continued unfazed.

“Gets one small slice. I already know, Stiles.” He smiled at the other two adults. “The kitchen is just up ahead,” he directed, “and the back door is there as well.” Hazel smiled and went inside. Peter started to follow but was stopped by Jordan. “So you’re Peter Hale.”

“Yes?” He was unsure how to respond with Jordan’s neutral tone.

Suddenly he was pulled into a tight hug. “Thank you,” Jordan whispered and then released his grip. “He’s never called me ‘pops’ before.” He gave another watery smile. “You’ve really helped him.” Peter gave a weak smile. He wanted to inform Jordan that he never did anything since he wasn’t there at the meeting and Stiles wasn’t one of his patients. Jordan went in for another hug and released him just as quickly. “John really wants to thank you as well.”

Peter nodded once, hoping his face didn’t show how confused he was. It apparently did since Jordan just smiled and led the other man to the backyard. Along the way, he saw Lydia plotting with Allison and Erica. Raising an eyebrow at them but Lydia just shook her head at him as if it wasn’t any of his business. He sighed as he continued outside seeing that the party truly was in full swing. Peter was honestly amazed as to how many people were there.

At the far left of the yard was the grill being manned by John Stilinski who was arguing with both his son and boyfriend about how much meat there was and how much he was going to get to eat. He was adamant about the fact that it was a party so he could let loose a bit but both wouldn’t concede. Eventually, John realized he was fighting a losing battle and tried to get them both away so he could cook in peace but only Stiles left, leaving Jordan to then complain about how John was cooking everything. John gave up, walking away from the grill and going inside. Jordan watched him with a smirk on his face and continued cooking the food.

Nearby, David Whittemore was talking to Adam and Martha Boyd, every so often the three of them would look over at the sound of the laughing children. They would watch as Boyd and Derek would play with them, playing some combination of chase or hide-and-go-seek. The Boyd’s would give a smile seeing their son chase the kids causing them to scream in laughter. Peter knew about Boyd from Derek, they became fast friends after the group and they’d spend time at each other’s houses just hanging out, sometimes them both being silent and doing different things but still together. Close to those adults, Jackson was talking to three guys, Peter figured they were Danny, Ethan, and Ethan’s twin brother Aiden. They were crowding around Jackson looking over his shoulder as he typed on his phone, each boy telling him something. Sometimes he’d laugh and other times he’d just blush.

The girls finally came out of the kitchen, each one separating to go to their parents. Allison had interrupted her father’s conversation with Mark and Grace Fitzgerald and dragged him away to go to Natalie Martin and Ariel Reyes. All three were confused as to what was going on until Lydia explained what was going on. The two women laughed while Chris Agrent looking uncomfortable as he tried to slowly back away. His daughter kept him there even going so far as to hold onto his arm so he couldn’t run away. Erica had a large grin on her face as she watched hers and Lydia’s mothers tormenting Chris. Lydia herself was pulled away by one of the twins and looked uninterested in what he was telling her. But then he said something that caused her to laugh. From the look on her face, that laugh was completely unexpected.

Scott saw him still standing on the back porch and gave a wave. Peter returned it and watched as Scott was lead towards the Fitzgerald’s by his boyfriend, Isaac. For a moment Scott had the same expression that Derek had earlier when he saw Isaac’s guardians, or as it had recently been his parents, but quickly relaxed when Grace pulled him into a hug. She said something that made her husband laugh and the boys blush when they looked at each other.

Laura’s loud laugh brought his attention to the last group which consisted of his nieces, eldest daughter, and his wife with Stiles who seemed to be the center of attention, something he was enjoying immensely. It looked as if he was telling them a story that made even the moody Malia and equally moody Cora laugh. Peter smiled himself seeing how connected everyone seemed.

“You know _you’re_ the one responsible for this, right?”

Peter looked over and saw Melissa McCall, one of the only nurses he got to know why volunteering his time at the hospital. She had been one of the only people on staff that loved his idea for a teen support group.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if it wasn’t for you, none of these people would even be here. With your group, you didn’t just get our kids to become friends, but also brought _us_ together as well.”

“I didn’t do—”

“Nonsense,” John said slapping Peter on the back. He had two open beer bottles and he passed one to Peter. “If it wasn’t for you and your group, I would never have known how much Stiles still missed his mom.”

“Or that Scott has a deep fear of stairs,” Melissa added.

“That reminds me,” John chuckled, “I was able to get Raf to be demoted and transferred even further away.”

“Good to know,” she said as naturally as she could but there was a slight smile on her lips.

“John,” Jordan called. There was a dark cloud of smoke erupting from the grill.

“That man’s going to kill me,” John said but then smiled. “I have no idea why I love him.” He jogged off to help Jordan with whatever he did.

“You know, I had a crush on him when we first met.” Peter looked at Melissa raising an eyebrow. “I know, but at the time I was in an abusive relationship and our sons got along so well. But to be honest, I don’t think any woman will ever compare to his wife.”

“And that’s why he’s with a man?”

“Well, a girl has to lift her spirits somehow.” She winked while Peter laughed. “Well if you excuse me, I’m going to throw my hat in for Chris.” She left before he could say anything.

Peter shook his head as he looked around the yard again. Since the trial ended, he’d been thanked. He didn’t understand why, all Peter did was create a place for teens to talk to each other without being judged, it wasn’t groundbreaking. And further, he wasn’t even there that day, not wanting to make Derek feel pressured to talk after he had agreed to finally go. It was the kids at the meeting that should’ve been thanked, not him. If it wasn’t for the flyer John had seen, he’d never have signed Stiles up for it. If Lydia hadn’t encouraged her former boyfriend and best friend to go, they’d never been able to work out their problems. If Boyd, Erica, and Isaac hadn’t had each other, they might’ve never agreed to go to the meeting in the first place. And if Scott hadn’t agreed to take over the group for the day, he wouldn’t have these kids as his friends nor would he have a boyfriend. But they did.

“You okay over here?” Hazel asked. She was standing next to him, surveying the yard as he had done earlier.

The black smoke from the grill had dissipated and John was the one grilling again, an arm around a smudged-faced Jordan. Chris, in a desperate move, joined the couple to get as far away from the women his daughter was trying to set him up with. David was talking to his son who looked like he was trying to convince his father of something. Close by Jackson’s friends were eagerly watching for the response. Laura had taken over watching the kids and had forced her sister and cousin to help. Malia and Cora were surprisingly enjoying themselves. Adam and Mark were talking each with a beer in their hands while their wives were close by watching the kids and having a conversation themselves. The conversation was paused with one of Grace’s children came up asking for something that embarrassed their mother and made Martha laugh out loud. Other laughers could be heard and it came from Melissa, Natalie, and Ariel who had started chatting and every so often would look over at Chris, making the man blush which caused them to laugh again. A similar thing was happening with Allison and Lydia who ever so often would look at one of the twins who would smile at the girls and cause the girls to start chatting again. Where his family was sitting the before, the rest of the kids had taken up the space. Erica was sitting in Boyd’s lap talking to Scott and Isaac who were sitting close together and holding each other’s hands. The new lovebirds, Derek and Stiles, sat and contributed to the conversation with the other two couples, but every so often would look at the other getting swept up in their own little world. They shared small smiles before they’d go back to the conversation.

“I’m fine,” Peter answered.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re the reason all this happened.”

“I just started the group.”

“You still had a part in it. Just take the praise.”

“I would if it was warranted.”

Hazel kissed her husband on the cheek. “It is. You’re just too humble to accept it.”

Peter scoffed. “We’ve been married for a long time, and you know I’m anything but humble.”

“That might be true, but if it was for you creating that group none of these people would’ve ever connected.”

“I created a group that failed. It was defunded by the hospital.”

“No,” Hazel argued, “it was just disbanded from the hospital. You could just move it somewhere else and continue it.”

Peter pulled away and looked at Hazel. “What?”

“Well, the group might’ve taken a while to catch on, but it worked. And just because you can’t hold it at the hospital doesn’t mean it has to end.”

“And where would I hold it?”

“Don’t you have an office that isn’t used on the weekend?”

“Are you serious?”

“Peter, I’ve always believed in what you were doing. If I didn’t, I’ve bitched and complained until I was blue in the face. But I love that you want to help teens deal with things they should have to until they’re our age. You are a man with a large heart and a kind spirit. Hell, you took in your nieces and nephew instead of shipping them off to their father.”

“I had to.”

“No, Peter, you didn’t. But you did anyway. And I love you for that.”

“And what if it fails again?”

“I don’t think it will if you have Scott control the group.”

He watched the boy grab a can of soda and then get approached by Lydia to talk about something. Scott looked shocked that Lydia was talking to him and even asking for advice. When she left after a bit he looked around seeing if anyone had seen what had happened. When their eyes met, Scott gave a little wave. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Hazel said and then kissed his cheek again. “But for the love of God, change that godawful name.”

Peter smiled.

He _had_ done it once.

Maybe he could do it again.

Just with a better name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. Thank you so much for reading this story and thanks for the wonderful comments. It took about 5 months to finish this one, and I'm really proud of what came out. 
> 
> And now that this is finished I can focus on two new stories I'm planning, both are from prompts so I'm excited to do that. One will involve Chris, the sheriff, and Peter as teens while the other I'll be writing about Danny and Jackson. So get ready for those. And of course, I have a few more of my song fics planned as well. The next one I have planned won't have a pairing but will be about Isaac and his father, it'll be dark but should be an exciting read. And if you have any prompts you would like me to do, please let me know.
> 
> So again, thank you for reading, and look out for my next story.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to get in contact with me, you can comment or check me out on Twitter (https://twitter.com/musiclove9151) and Tumblr (musiclove915)


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